

















r* 


\ 


/t 





' « 




d A'. , 






r./: 






9 r\ 



% 



v^,W'.- ■ «!»;;.V^ U-:v:fev,SK 


< ^ f f s*. \ 

• « I I » 


ui'-v"' - 


. ) 


■J ’ • 

i'- 


fv r 

C\ , \ 


' 

« 4* 


} ^ 




l*>- 


f'v' 


• f 


V ‘ ' 


if > 

.Li. ^ » 


Vi 




iVA 


r.l^'.: 

fc .’ ^ - 

v:. ’■ ,"< ' ‘iTf'r 

tdm i ^ '. iKf 





f 


< 


’ 1 *^“' .'Ji^ 





■ N ' . 

,‘ ’ ' •> 
, I 


I r . « ■ I 

’ A ♦ ■> . 4 

•' ’ *• • •: 4 *'. « 


r' 


I 


Y' 


I' 




rV 


►< A 


. ,. . „ ■■ . -'w’'''‘''i?f f?r ■ vi> 

» , ■ ^ * -K A- / • \ ' ■ V 'V’ * «( 

'*■ ■’ -n? ■ V''> - •V#*' ■ ". i!'>f’(S 

.' - j iv;? . |'»,V/. w''lf> *)|V „ <.‘i ‘»'/*«Vc 

■** 12 >' ^ •' :.' 'K’' 

‘ . ■•’Si ‘ ' ». 



V ’ • % *ri ^ 

. I , f. .; 


J , » ”» I I ' 


'•...V 


/ 




K'\ 


'•‘.fc* 

k . 


• • I 


:i . / . 5 i/'^ n *• ' f Ti.iri^Tf.’^ V’ 

',. -i .y»?v - A- | iV 

4»i;i , 

:r. > V '■ i V 


I V 






% 

■■ i 




I 


r 

» • 1 

k t. 



j) 



f^\ f]‘ 

k 41 


■;" '^'&V 




■’S 




';V 


|V^«] 




«< 


' ■ ^ vf ■ ■ r ;;r^ 

» ■■ ■ ' '■ ■■ -li 




1 


j :• 


K 4 f 


i** 


■ . vt 

- »v 




\U 


* « ' » 


V / 




1 t 




'. ' •< 


(T. 


A' 


■# .1 




y . 1 . 


♦ . • •*. 




I 






va™ 

















« 





KENNEDY WENT ON AND PITCHED IN A HEAP. Page 2-J() 




THE 


HEAD OF KAY’S 


y r.y 




BY 


P.^ or WODEHOUSE 


AUTHOR OF “ A PREFECT’S UNCLE,’ 
“ THE WHITE FEATHER,” ” 


THE GOLD BAT,” 
MIKE,” ETC. 



S 


NEW YORK 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

London : A. & C. BLACK, Ltd., 4, 5 & 6, Soho Square. 



First published in 1905 ; Reprinted in 1910. 
This edition published in 1922. 


x •»> . 


TO 

nV FATHER 


PEEFACE. 


When this story was appearing serially in 
the Captain^ some anonymous idiot wrote 
to the Editor pointing out certain errors 
in the camp chapters. I am obliged. If 
he reads these chapters now, he will observe 
— with a thrill of joy — that I have made 
the corrections he suggested. 


P, G. WODEHOUSK 


CONTENTS, 


OHAPTBB 

I. Mainly about Fenn, . . . , < * 1 

II. An Evening at Kay’s, . . , . , .14 

III. The Final House-Match 27 

IV. Harmony and Discord, ... . , 39 

V. Camp, 

VI. The Raid on the Guard-Tent, . ^ 67 

VII. A Clue, 79 

VIII. A Night Adventure— The Dethronement oe 

Fenn £9 

IX. The Sensations of an Exile, .... 102 

X. Further Experiences of an Exile, . , . .115 

XI. The Senior Dayroom opens Fihk, . . ,126 

XII. Kennedy Interviews Walton, . . . .137 

XIII. The Fight in the Dormitory, . . . .149 

XIV. Fenn Receives a Letter, ICO 

XV. Down Town, 168 

XVI. What Happened to Fenn 180 

XVII. Fenn Hunts for Himself, ..... 192 

XVIII. A Vain Quest, 203 

XIX. The Guile of Wren, 213 

XX. Jimmy the Peacemaker, 222 

XXL In which an Episode is Closed, , . . 234 

XXII. Kay’s Changes its Name, 247 

XXIII. The House-Matches, 258 

XXIV. The Sports, 269 

vli 

I 


I 


4 


4 

t 



f' 


;> > 


i 




4 



r 

I 



I 

i 

I 







< ' 


*4 

1 


r • 


> * 


I 




\ 

f 


4 


/ 


i 


4 

7 ‘ 


'\ 



THE HEAD OE KAY’S. 


CHAPTER I. • 


MAINLY ABOUT FENN. 

HEN we get licked to-morrow by 



half-a-dozen wickets,” said Jimmy 
Silver, tilting his chair until the back 
touched the wall, don’t say I didn’t 
warn you. If you fellows take down what 
I say from time to time in note-books, as 
you ought to do, you’ll remember that I 
offered to give anyone odds that Kay’s 
would out us in the final. I always said 
that a really hot man like Fenn was more 
good to a side than half-a-dozon ordinary 
men. He can do all the bowling and all 
the batting. All the fielding, too, in the 


slips,” 


A 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


Tea was just over at Blackburn’s, and 
the bulk of the house had gone across to 
preparation in the school buildings. The 
prefects, as was their custom, lingered on 
to finish the meal at their leisure. These 
afler-tea conversations were quite an in- 
stitution at Blackburn’s. The labours of 
the day were over, and the time for 
preparation for the morrow had not yet 
come. It would be time to be thinking of 
that in another hour. Meanwhile, a little 
relaxation might be enjoyed. Especially so 
as this was the last day but two of the 
summer term, and all necessity for working 
after tea had ceased with the arrival of 
the last lap of the examinations. 

Silver was head of the house, and captain 
of its cricket team, which was nearing the 
end of its last match, the final for the 
inter-house cup, and — on paper — getting 
decidedly the worst of it. After riding in 
triumph over the School House, Bedell’s, 
and Mulholland’s, Blackburn’s had met its 
next door neighbour, Kay’s, in the final, 
and, to the surprise of the great majority 


MAINLY ABOUT FENN, 


3 


of the school, was showing up hadly. The 
match was affording one more example of 
how a team of average merit all through 
may sometimes fall before a one-man side. 
Blackburn’s had the three last men on the 
list of the first eleven, Silver, Kennedy, 
and Challis, and at least nine of its re- 
presentatives had the reputation of being 
able to knock up a useful twenty or thirty 
at any time. Kay’s, on the other hand, 
had one man, Fenn. After him the tail 
started. But Fenn was such an exceptional 
all-round man that, as Silver had said, he 
was as good as half-a-dozen of the Black- 
burn’s team, equally formidable whether 
batting or bowling — he headed the school 
averages at both. He was one of those 
batsmen who seem to know exactly what 
sort of ball you are going to bowl before 
it leaves your hand, and he could hit like 
another Jessop. As for his bowling, he 
bowled left hand — always a puzzling eccen- 
tricity to an undeveloped batsman — and 
could send them down very fast or very 
slow, as he thought best, and it was hard 


4 


THE HEAD OF KA V’S. 


to see which particular brand he was going 
to serve up before it was actually in mid- 
air. 

But it is not necessary to enlarge on his 
abilities. The figures against his name in 
Wisden prove a good deal. The fact that 
he had steered Kay’s through into the last 
round of the house matches proves still 
more. It was perfectly obvious to everyone 
that, if only you could get Fenn out for 
under ten, Kay’s total for that innings 
would be nearer twenty than forty. They 
were an appalling side. But then no house 
bowler had as yet succeeded in getting Fenn 
out for under ten. In the six innings he 
had played in the competition up to date, 
he had made four centuries, an eighty, and 
a seventy. 

Kennedy, the second prefect at Black- 
burn’s, paused in the act of grappling with 
the remnant of a pot of jam belonging to 
some person unknown, to reply to Silver’s 
remarks. 

“We aren’t beaten yet,” he said, in his 
solid way. Kennedy’s chief characteristics 


MAINLY ABOUT FENN. 


5 


were solidity, and an infinite capacity for 
taking pains. Nothing seemed to tire or 
discourage him. He kept pegging away 
till he arrived. The ordinary person, for 
instance, would have considered the jam- 
pot, on which he was then engaged, an 
empty jam-pot. Kennedy saw that there 
was still a strawberry (or it may have 
been a section of a strawberry) at the 
extreme end, and he meant to have that 
coy vegetable if he had to squeeze the 
pot to get at it. To take another instance, 
all the afternoon of the previous day he 
had bowled patiently at Fenn while the 
latter lifted every other ball into space. 
He had been taken off three times, and 
at every fresh attack he had plodded on 
doggedly, until at last, as he had expected, 
the batsman had misjudged a straight one, 
and he had bowled him all over his wicket. 
Kennedy generally managed to get there 
sooner or later. 

“ It’s no good chucking the game up 
simply because we’re in a tight place,” he 
said, bringing the spoon to the surface at 


6 


THE HEAD OF KA rS. 


last with the sectioa of strawberry adhering 
to the end of it. ‘‘ That sort of thing’s 
awfully feeble.” 

“He calls me feeble!” shouted Jimmy 
Silver. “By James, I’ve put a man to 
sleep for less.” 

It was one of his amusements to express 
himself from time to time in a melodramatic 
fashion, sometimes accompanying his words 
with suitable gestures. It was on one of 
these occasions — when he had assumed at 
a moment’s notice the rdle of the “ Baffled 
Despot,” in an argument with Kennedy in 
his study on the subject of the house foot- 
ball team — that he broke what Mr Black- 
burn considered a valuable door with a 
poker. Since then he had moderated his 
transports. 

“They’ve got to make seventy -nine,” said 
Kennedy. 

Challis, the other first eleven man, was 
reading a green scoring-book. 

“I don’t think Kay’s ought to have the 
face to stick the cup up in their dining- 
room,” he said, “ considering the little 


MAINLY ABOUT FENN, 


7 


they’ve done to win it. If they do win it, 
tliat is. Still, as they made two hundred 
first innings, they ought to be able to knock 
off seventy-nine. But I was saying that the 
pot ought to go to Fenn. Lot the rest of 
the team had to do with it. Blackburn’s, 
first innings, hundred and fifty-one; Fenn, 
eight for forty-nine. Kay’s, two hundred 
and one; Fenn, a hundred and sixty-four 
not out. Second innings, Blackburn’s 
hundred and twenty -eight ; Fenn ten for 
eighty. Bit thick, isn’t it ? I suppose 
that’s what you’d call a one-man team.” 

Williams, one of the other prefects, who 
had just sat down at the piano for the 
purpose of playing his one tune — a cake- 
walk, of which, through constant practice, 
he had mastei’ed the rudiments — spoke over 
his shoulder to Silver. 

“ I tell you what, Jimmy,” he said, 
“ you’ve probably lost us the pot by getting 
your people to send brother Billy to Kay’s. 
If he hadn’t kept up his wicket yesterday, 
Fenn wouldn’t have made half as many.” 

When his young brother had been sent 


8 


THE HEAD OF KA rS. 


to Eckleton two terms before, Jimmy Silver 
had strongly urged upon his father the 
necessity of placing him in some house other 
than Blackburn’s. He felt that a head of 
a house, even of so orderly and perfect a 
house as Blackburn’s, has enough worries 
without being saddled with a small brother. 
And on the previous afternoon young Billy 
Silver, going in eighth wicket for Kay’s, 
had put a solid bat in front of everything 
for the space of one hour, in the course of 
which he made ten runs and Fenn sixty. 
By scoring odd numbers oft the last ball 
of each over, Fenn had managed to secure 
the majority of the bowling in the most 
masterly way. 

‘‘These things will happen,” said Silver, 
resignedly. “We Silvers, you know, can’t 
help making runs. Come on, Williams, let’s 
have that tune, and get it over.” 

Williams obliged. It was a classic piece 
called “ The Coon Band Contest,” remarkable 
partly for a taking melody, partly for the 
vast possibilities of noise which it afforded. 
Williams made up for his failure to do 


MAINLY ABOUT FENN, 


9 


justice to the former by a keen appreciation 
of the latter. He played the piece through 
again, in order to correct the mistakes he 
had made at his first rendering of it. Then 
he played it for the third time to correct 
a new batch of errors. 

“ I should like to hear Fenn play that,’’ 
said Challis. “ You’re awfully good, you 
know, Williams, but he might do it better 
still.” 

“ Get him to play it as an encore at the 
concert,” said Williams, starting for the 
fourth time. 

The talented Fenn was also a musician, — 
not a genius at the piano, as he was at 
cricket, but a sufficiently sound performer 
for his age, considering that he had not 
made a special study of it. He was to 
play at the school concert on the following 
day. 

“ I believe Fenn has an awful time at 
Kay’s,” said Jimmy Silver. ‘‘It must be 
a fair sort of hole, judging from the 
specimens you see crawling about in Kay 
caps. I wish I’d known my people were 


10 


THE HEAD OF HA V^S. 


sending young Billy there. I’d have warned 
them, I only told them not to sling him 
in here. I had no idea they’d have picked 
Kay’s.” 

“ Fenn was telling me the other day,” 
said Kennedy, “that being in Kay’s had 
spoiled his whole time at the school. He 
always wanted to come to Blackburn’s, only 
there wasn’t room that particular term. 
Bad luck, wasn’t it ? I don’t think he found 
it so bad before he became head of the 
house. He didn’t come into contact with 
Kay so much. But now he finds that he 
can’t do a thing without Kay buzzing round 
and interfering.” 

“I wonder,” said Jimmy Silver, thought- 
fully, “if that’s why he bowls so fast. To 
work it off, you know.” 

In the course of a beautiful innings of 
fifty-three that afternoon, the captain of 
Blackburn’s had received two of Fenn’s 
speediest on the same spot just above the 
pad in rapid succession, and he now hobbled 
painfully when he moved about. 

The conversation that evening had dealt 


MAINL y ABOUT FENN. 


II 


SO largely with Fenn — the whole school, 
indeed, was talking of nothing but his 
great attempt to win the cricket cup 
single-handed — that Kennedy, going out 
into the road for a breather before the 
rest of the boarders returned from prepara- 
tion, made his way to Kay’s to see if Fenn 
was imitating his example, and taking the 
air too. 

He found him at Kay’s gate, and they 
strolled towards the school buildings to- 
gether. Fenn was unusually silent. 

“Well?” said Kennedy, after a minute 
had passed without a remark. 

“Well, what?” 

“What’s up?” 

Fenn laughed what novelists are fond of 
calling a mirthless laugh. 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” he said ; “ I’m sick 
of this place.” 

Kennedy inspected his friend’s face 
anxiously by the light of the lamp over 
the school gate. There was no mistake 
about it. Fenn certainly did look bad. 
His face always looked lean and craggy. 


12 


THE HEAD OF KA V’S. 


but to-night there was a difference. He 
looked used up. 

“Fagged?” asked Kennedy. 

“No. Sick.” 

“ What about ? ” 

“ Everything. I wish you could come 
into Kay’s for a bit just to see what it’s 
like. Then you’d understand. At present 
I don’t suppose you’ve an idea of it. I’d 
like to write a book on ‘Kay Day by Day.’ 
I’d have plenty to put in it.” 

“ What’s he been doing ? ” 

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary run. 
It’s the fact that he’s always at it that 
does me. You get a houseful of — well, you 
know the sort of chap the average Kayite 
is. They’d keep me busy even if I were 
allowed a free hand. But I’m not. When- 
ever I try and keep order and stop things 
a bit, out springs the man Kay from 
nowhere, and takes the job out of my 
hands, makes a ghastly mess of everything, 
and retires purring. Once in every three 
times, or thereabouts, he slangs me in 
front of the kids for not keeping order. 


MAINLY ABOUT FENN, 


*3 


I’m glad this is the end of the term. I 
couldn’t stand it much longer. Hullo, 
here come the chaps from prep. We’d 
better be getting back.” 


CHAPTER IL 


AN EVENING AT KAY’s. 

rpHEY turned, and began to walk towards 
the houses. Kennedy felt miserable 
He never allowed himself to be put out, 
to any great extent, by his own worries, 
which, indeed, had not been very numerous 
up to the present, but the misfortunes of 
his friends always troubled him exceed- 
ingly. When anything happened to him 
personally, he found the discomfort of being 
in a tight place largely counterbalanced by 
the excitement of trying to find a way 
out. But the impossibility of helping Fenn 
in any way depressed him. 

“It must be awful,” he said, breaking 
the silence. 

“It is,” said Fenn, briefly. 


AN EVENING AT KA F’5. 


15 


“But haven’t the house-matches made 
any difference? Blackburn’s always fright- 
fully bucked when the house does any- 
thing. You can do anything you like 
with him if you lift a cup. I should 
have thought Kay would have been all 
right when he saw you knocking up 
centuries, and getting into the final, and 
all that sort of thing.” 

Fenn laughed. 

“ Kay I ” he said. “ My dear man, he 
doesn’t know, I don’t suppose he’s got 
the remotest idea that we are in the 
final at all, or, if he has, he doesn’t 
understand what being in the final 
means.” 

“But surely he’ll be glad if you lick us 
to-morrow ? ” asked Kennedy. Such in- 
difference on the part of a house-master 
respecting the fortunes of his house seemed 
to him, having before him the bright 
example of Mr Blackburn almost incred- 
ible. 

“I don’t suppose so,” said Fenn. “Or, 
if he is, ni bet he doesn’t show it. 


i6 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


He’s not like Blackburn. I wish he was. 
Here he comes, so perhaps we’d better talk 
about something else.” 

The vanguard of the boys returning from 
preparation had passed them, and they 
were now standing at the gate of the 
house. As Fenn spoke, a little, restless- 
looking man in cap and gown came up. 
His clean-shaven face wore an expression 
of extreme alertness — the sort of look a 
ferret wears as he slips in at the mouth 
of a rabbit-hole. A doctor, called upon to 
sum up Mr Kay at a glance, would prob- 
ably have said that he suffered from 
nerves, which would have been a perfectly 
correct diagnosis, though none of the 
members of his house put his manners 
and customs down to that cause. They 
considered that the methods he pursued in 
the management of the house were the 
outcome of a naturally malignant disposi- 
tion. This was, however, not the case. 
There is no reason to suppose that Mr Kay 
did not mean well. But there is no doubt 
that he was extremely fussy. And fussi- 


AN EVENING AT K A Y'S, 


17 


ness — with the possible exceptions of homi- 
cidal mania and a taste for arson — is quite 
the worst characteristic it is possible for a 
house-master to possess. 

He caught sight of Fenn and Kennedy 
at the gate, and stopped in his stride. 

“ What are you doing here, Fenn ? ” he 
asked, with an abruptness which brought a 
flush to the latter’s face. “ Why are you 
outside the house ? ” 

Kennedy began to understand why it 
was that his friend felt so strongly on the 
subject of his house-master. If this was 
the sort of thing that happened every day, 
no wonder that there was dissension in 
the house of Kay. He tried to imagine 
Blackburn speaking in that way to Jimmy 
Silver or himself, but his imagination was 
unequal to the task. Between Mr Black- 
burn and his prefects there existed a 
perfect understanding. He relied on them 
to see that order was kept, and they acted 
accordingly. Fenn, by the exercise of con- 
siderable self-control, had always been 
scrupulously polite to Mr Kay. 


B 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


t8 

“ I came out to get some fresh air 
before lock-up, sir,” he replied. 

^‘Well, go in. Go in at once. I cannot 
allow you to be outside the house at this 
hour. Go indoors directly.” 

Kennedy expected a scene, but Fenn 
took it quite quietly. 

“ Good-night, Kennedy,” he said. 

‘‘So long,” said Kennedy. 

Fenn caught his eye, and smiled pain- 
fully. Then he turned and went into the 
house. 

Mr Kay’s zeal for reform was apparently 
still unsatisfied. He directed his batteries 
towards Kennedy. 

“Go to your house at once, Kennedy 
You have no business out here at this 
time.” 

This, thought Kennedy, was getting a 
bit too warm. Mr Kay might do as he 
pleased with his own house, but he was 
hanged if he was going to trample on 
lam. 

“ Mr Blackburn is my house-master, sir,” 
he said with great respect. 


AN E VENING AT K A Y'S, 


*9 


Mr Kay stared. 

“My house-master,” continued Kennedy 
with gusto, slightly emphasising the first 
word, “ knows that I always go out just 
before lock-up, and he has no objection.” 

And, to emphasise this point, he walked 
towards the school buildings again. For a 
moment it seemed as if Mr Kay intended 
to call him back, but he thought better 
of it. Mr Blackburn, in normal circum- 
stances a pacific man, had one touchy 
point — his house. He resented any inter- 
ference with its management, and was in 
the habit of saying so. Mr Kay remem- 
bered one painful scene in the Masters’ 
Common Boom, when he had ventured to 
let fall a few well-meant hints as to how 
a house should he ruled. Beally, he had 
thought Blackburn would have choked. 
Better, perhaps, to leave him to look after 
his own affairs. 

So Mr Kay followed Fenn indoors, and 
Kennedy, having watched him vanish, made 
his way to Blackburn’s. 

Quietly as Fenn had taken the incident 


20 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S, 


at the gate, it nevertheless rankled. He 
read prayers that night in a distinctly 
unprayerful mood. It seemed to him that 
it would be lucky if he could get through 
to the end of the term before Mr Kay 
applied that last straw which does not 
break the backs of camels only. Eight 
weeks’ holiday, with plenty of cricket, 
would brace him up for another term. 
And he had been invited to play for the 
county against Middlesex four days after 
the holidays began. That should have 
been a soothing thought. But it really 
seemed to make matters worse. It was 
hard that a man who on Monday would 
be bowling against Warner and Beldam, 
or standing up to Trott and Hearne, should 
on the preceding Tuesday be sent indoors 
like a naughty child by a man who stood 
five-feet-one in his boots, and was devoid 
of any sort of merit whatever. 

It seemed to him that it would help 
him to sleep peacefully that night if he 
worked off a little of his just indignation 
upon somebody. There was a noise going 


AJV E VENING AT K A Y^S. 


21 


on in the fags’ room. There always was 
at Kay’s. It was not a particularly noisy 
noise — considering ; but it had better be 
stopped. Badly as Kay had treated him, 
he remembered that he was head of the 
house, and as such it behoved him to keep 
order in the house. 

He went downstairs, and, on arriving on 
the scene of action, found that the fags 
were engaged upon spirited festivities, 
partly in honour of the near approach of 
the summer holidays, partly because — 
miracles barred — the house was going on 
the morrow to lift the cricket-cup. There 
were a good many books flying about, and 
not a few slippers. There was a confused 
mass rolling in combat on the floor, and 
the table was occupied by a scarlet-faced 
individual, who passed the time by kicking 
violently at certain hands, which were 
endeavouring to drag him from his post, 
and shrieking frenzied abuse at the owners 
of the said hands. It was an animated 
scene, and to a deaf man might have been 
most enjoyable. 


22 


THE HEAD OF KA K’^. 


Fenn’s appearance was the signal for a 
temporary suspension of hostilities. 

‘‘What the dickens is all this row 
about ? ” he inquired. 

No one seemed ready at the moment 
with a concise explanation. There was an 
awkward silence. One or two of the 
weaker spirits even went so far as to sit 
down and begin to read. All would have 
been well but for a bright idea which 
struck some undiscovered youth at the 
back of the room. 

“ Three cheers for Fenn ! ” observed this 
genial spirit, in no uncertain voice. 

The idea caught on. It was just what 
was wanted to give a finish to the evening’s 
festivities. Fenn had done well by the 
house. He had scored four centuries and 
an eighty, and was going to knock off the 
runs against Blackburn’s to-morrow off his 
own bat. Also, he had taken eighteen 
wickets in the final house-match. Obviously 
Fenn was a person deserving of all en- 
couragement. It would be a pity to let 
him think that his effort had passed un- 


AN EVENING AT KAY^S, 


23 


noticed by the fags’ room. Happy thought ! 
Three cheers and one more, and then 
‘‘ He’s a jolly good fellow,” to wind up 
with. 

It was while those familiar words, “It’s 
a way we have in the public scho-o-o-o-l-s,” 
were echoing through the room in various 
keys, that a small and energetic form 
brushed past Fenn as he stood in the 
doorway, vainly trying to stop the fags’ 
choral efforts. 

It was Mr Kay. 

The singing ceased gradually, very gradu- 
ally. It was some time before Mr Kay 
could make himself heard. But after a 
couple of minutes there was a lull, and 
the house-master’s address began to be 
audible. 

. unendurable noise. What is the 
meaning of it? I will not have it. Do 
you hear? It is disgraceful. Every boy 
in this room will write me two hundred 
lines by to-morrow evening. It is abomin- 
able. Fenn.” He wheeled round towards 
the head of the house. “ Fenn, I am 


24 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


surprised at you standing here and allow- 
ing such a disgraceful disturbance to go 
on. Really, if you cannot keep order 
better It is disgraceful, disgraceful.” 

Mr Kay shot out of the room. Fenn 
followed in his wake, and the procession 
made its way to the house-master’s study. 
It had been a near thing, but the last 
straw had arrived before the holidays. 

Mr Kay wheeled round as he reached 
his study door. 

‘‘Well, Fenn?” 

Fenn said nothing. 

“Have you anything you wish to say, 
Fenn?” 

“I thought you might have something 
to say to me, sir.” 

“I do not understand you, Fenn.” 

“I thought you might wish to apologise 
for slanging me in front of the fags.” 

It is wonderful what a difference the 
last straw will make in one’s demeanour 
to a person. 

“Apologise! I think you forget whom 
it is you are speaking to.” 


AN EVENING AT K A K’5'. 


25 


When a master makes this well-worn 
remark, the wise youth realises that the 
time has come to close the conversation. 
All Fenn’s prudence, however, had gone to 
the four winds. 

“ If you wanted to tell me I was not fit 
to be head of the house, you needn’t have 
done it before a roomful of fags. How do 
you think I can keep order in the house 
if you do that sort of thing ? ” 

Mr Kay overcame his impulse to end 
the interview abruptly in order to put in 
a thrust. 

“You do not keep order in the house, 
Fenn,” he said, acidly. 

“ I do when I am not interfered with.” 

“You will be good enough to say ‘sir’ 
when you speak to me, Fenn,” said 
Mr Kay, thereby scoring another point. 
In the stress of the moment, Fenn had 
not noticed the omission. 

He was silenced. And before he could 
recover himself, Mr Kay was in his study, 
and there was a closed, forbidding door 
between them. 


26 


THE HEAD OF KA F’5. 


And as he stared at it, it began slowly 
to dawn upon Fenn that he had not 
shown up to advantage in the recent 
interview. In a word, he had made a 
fool of himself. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE FINAL HOUSE-MATCH. 

T>LACKBURN’S took the field at three 
punctually on the following afternoon, 
to play out the last act of the final house- 
match. They were not without some small 
hope of victory, for curious things happen 
at cricket, especially in the fourth innings 
of a match. And runs are admitted to he 
easier saved than made. Yet seventy-nine 
seemed an absurdly small score to try and 
dismiss a team for, and in view of the fact 
that that team contained a batsman like 
Fenn, it seemed smaller still. But Jimmy 
Silver, resolutely as he had declared victory 
impossible to his intimate friends, was not 
the man to depress his team by letting it 


become generally known that he considered 
Blackburn’s chances small. 

“ You must work like niggers in the 
field,” he said; “don’t give away a run. 
Seventy-nine isn’t much to make, but if 
we get Fenn out for a few, they won’t 
come near it.” 

He did not add that in his opinion Fenn 
would take very good care that he did not 
get out for a few. It was far more likely 
that he would make that seventy-nine off 
his own bat in a dozen overs. 

“You’d better begin, Kennedy,” he con- 
tinued, “ from the top end. Place your 
men where you want ’em. I should have 
an extra man in the deep, if I were you. 
That’s where Fenn kept putting them last 
innings. And you’ll want a short leg, only 
for goodness sake keep them off the leg- 
side if you can. It’s a safe four to Fenn 
every time if you don’t. Look out, you 
chaps. Man in.” 

Kay’s first pair were coming down the 
pavilion steps. 

Challis, going to his place at short slip, 


THE FINAL HOUSE-MATCH. 


29 


called Silver’s attention to a remarkable 
fact. 

“ Hullo,” he said, “ why isn’t Fenn 
coming in first ? ” 

‘‘What! By Jove, nor he is. That’s 
queer. All the better for us. You might 
get a bit finer, Challis, in case they snick 
’em.” 

Wayburn, who had accompanied Fenn to 
the wicket at the beginning of Kay’s first 
innings, had now for his partner one 
Walton, a large, unpleasant-looking youth, 
said to be a bit of a bruiser, and known 
to be a black sheep. He was one of 
those who made life at Kay’s so close an 
imitation of an Inferno. His cricket was 
of a rustic order. He hit hard and high. 
When allowed to do so, he hit often. 
But, as a rule, he left early, a prey to 
the slips or deep fields. To-day was no 
exception to that rule. 

Kennedy’s first ball was straight and 
medium-paced. It was a little too short, 
however, and Walton, letting go at it with 
a semi-circular sweep like the drive of a 


30 


THE HEAD OF KA 


golfer, sent it soaring over mid-on’s head 
and over the boundary. Cheers from the 
pavilion. 

Kennedy bowled his second ball with the 
same purposeful air, and Walton swept at 
it as before. There was a click, and 
Jimmy Silver, who was keeping wicket, 
took the ball comfortably on a level with 
his chin. 

“ How’s that ? ” 

The umpire’s hand went up, and Walton 
went out — reluctantly, murmuring legends 
of how he had not gone within a yard of 
the thing. 

It was only when the next batsman who 
emerged from the pavilion turned out to 
be his young brother and not Fenn, that 
Silver began to see that something was 
wrong. It was conceivable that Fenn 
might have chosen to go in first wicket 
down instead of opening the batting, but 
not that he should go in second wicket. 
If Kay’s were to win it was essential that 
he should begin to bat as soon as possible. 
Otherwise there might be no time for him 


THE FINAL HOl/SE-MAJCH. 


31 


to knock off the runs. However good a 
batsman is, he can do little if no one can 
stay with him. 

There was no time to question the new- 
comer. He must control his curiosity until 
the fall of the next wicket. 

‘‘Man in,” he said. 

Billy Silver was in many ways a miniature 
edition of his brother, and he carried the 
resemblance into his batting. The head of 
Blackburn’s was stylish, and took no risks. 
His brother had not yet developed a style, 
but he was very settled in his mind on 
the subject of risks. There was no tempt- 
ing him with half-volleys and long-hops. 
His motto was defence, not defiance. He 
placed a straight bat in the path of every 
ball, and seemed to consider his duty done 
if he stopped it. 

The remainder of the over was, therefore, 
quiet. Billy played Kennedy’s fastest like 
a book, and left the more tempting ones 
alone. 

Challis’s first over realised a single, 
Wayburn snicking him to leg. The first 


32 


THE HEAD OF KA F’5. 


ball of Kennedy’s second over saw him 
caught at the wicket, as Walton had been. 

Every time a cocoanut,” said Jimmy 
Silver complacently, as he walked to the 
other end. ‘‘We’re a powerful combination, 
Kennedy. Where’s Fenn ? Does anybody 
know ? Why doesn’t he come in ? ” 

Billy Silver, seated on the grass by the 
side of the crease, fastening the top strap 
of one of his pads, gave tongue with the 
eagerness of the well-informed man. 

“ What, don’t you know ? ” he said. 
“ Why, there’s been an awful row. Fenti 
won’t be able to play till four o’clock. I 
believe he and Kay had a row last night, 
and he cheeked Kay, and the old man’s 
given him a sort of extra. I saw him 
going over to the School House, and I 
heard him tell Wayburn that he wouldn’t 
be able to play till four.” 

The effect produced by this communica- 
tion would be most fittingly expressed by 
the word “ sensation ” in brackets. It came 
as a complete surprise to everyone. It 
seemed to knock the bottom out of the 


THE FINAL HOUSE-MATCH 


33 


whole match. Without Fenn the thing 
would be a farce. Kay’s would have no 
chance. 

“What a worm that man is,” said 
Kennedy. “ Do you know, I had a sort 
of idea Fenn wouldn’t last out much longer. 
Kay’s been ragging him all the term. I 
went round to see him last night, and Kay 
behaved like a bounder then. I expect 
Fenn had it out with him when they got 
indoors. What a beastly shame, though.” 

“Beastly,” agreed Jimmy Silver. “Still, 
it can’t be helped. The sins of the house- 
master are visited on the house. I’m afraid 
it will be our painful duty to wipe the 
floor with Kay’s this day. Speaking at a 
venture, I should say that we have got 
them where the hair’s short. Yea. Even 
on toast, if I may be allowed to use the 
expression. Who is this coming forth now ? 
Curtis, or me old eyes deceive me. And is 
not Curtis’s record score three, marred by 
ten chances ? Indeed yes. A fastish yorker 
should settle Curtis’s young hash. Try one.” 

Kennedy followed the recipe. A ball 

c 


34 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


later the middle and leg stumps were lying 
in picturesque attitudes some yards behind 
the crease, and Curtis was beginning that 
sad, unending walk to the pavilion,” think- 
ing, with the poet, 

Thou wast not made to play, infernal ball ! ” 

Blackburns non-combatants, dotted round 
the boundary, shrieked their applause. 
Three wickets had fallen for five runs, and 
life was worth living. Kay’s were silent 
and gloomy. 

Billy Silver continued to occupy one end 
in an immovable manner, but at the other 
there was no monotony. Man after man 
came in, padded and gloved, and looking 
capable of mighty things. They took guard, 
patted the ground lustily, as if to make it 
plain that they were going to stand no 
nonsense, settled their caps over their eyes, 
and prepared to receive the ball. When it 
came it usually took a stump or two with 
it before it stopped. It was a procession 
such as the school grounds had not often 
seen. As the tenth man walked from the 


THE FINAL HOUSE-MATCH 


35 


pavilion, four sounded from the clock over 
the Great Hall, and five minutes later the 
weary eyes of the supporters of Kay’s were 
refreshed by the sight of Fenn making his 
way to the arena from the direction of the 
School House. 

Just as he arrived on the scene, Billy 
Silver’s defence broke down. One of Challis’s 
slows, which he had left alone with the 
idea that it was going to break away to 
the off, came in quickly instead, and removed 
a bail. Billy Silver had only made eight; 
but, as the full score, including one bye, was 
only eighteen, this was above the average, 
and deserved the applause it received. 

Fenn came in in the unusual position of 
eleventh man, with an expression on his 
face that seemed to suggest that he meant 
business. He was curiously garbed. Owing 
to the shortness of the interval allowed 
him for changing, he had only managed to 
extend his cricket costume as far as white 
buckskin boots. He wore no pads or gloves. 
But even in the face of these sartorial 
deficiencies, he looked like a cricketer. The 


36 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


field spread out respectfully, and Jimmy 
Silver moved a man from the slips into 
the country. 

There were three more balls of Challis’s 
over, for Billy Silver’s collapse had occurred 
at the third delivery. Fenn mistimed the 
first. Two hours writing indoors does not 
improve the eye. The ball missed the leg 
stump by an inch. 

About the fifth ball he made no mistake. 
He got the full face of the bat to it, and 
it hummed past coverpoint to the boundary. 
The last of the over he put to leg for 
three. 

A remarkable last-wicket partnership now 
took place, remarkable not so much for 
tall scoring as for the fact that one of the 
partners did not receive a single ball from 
beginning to end of it, with the exception 
of the one that bowled him. Fenn seemed 
to be able to do what he pleased with the 
bowling. Kennedy he played with a shade 
more respect than the others, but he 
never failed to score a three or a single off 
tb© last ball of each of his overs. The 


The Pinal hoVse^MAtcM. 


3 ? 


figures on the telegraph-board rose from 
twenty to thirty, from thirty to forty, from 
forty to fifty. Williams went on at the 
lower end instead of Challis, and Fenn 
made twelve off his first over. The pavilion 
was filled with howling enthusiasts, who 
cheered every hit in a frenzy. 

Jimmy Silver began to look worried. 
He held a hasty consultation with Kennedy. 
The telegraph-hoard now showed the figures 
60 — 9 — 8 . 

‘‘ This won’t do,” said Silver. “ It would 
be too foul to get licked after having 
nine of them out for eighteen. Can’t you 
manage to keep Fenn from scoring odd 
figures off the last ball of your over? If 
only that kid at the other end would get 
some of the bowling, we should do it.” 

“I’ll try,” said Kennedy, and walked 
back to begin his over. 

Fenn reached his fifty off the third ball. 
Seventy went up on the board. Ten more 
and Kay’s would have the cup. The fourth 
ball was too good to hit. Fenn let it 
pass. The fifth he drove to the on. It 


Head oeeav^s. 


was a big hit, but there was a fieldsman 
in the neighbourhood. Still, it was an 
easy two. But to Kennedy’s surprise Fenn 
sent his partner back after they had run 
a single. Even the umpire was surprised. 
Fenn’s policy was so obvious that it was 
strange to see him thus deliberately allow 
his partner to take a ball. 

“That’s not over, you know, Fenn,” said 
the umpire — Lang, of the School House, a 
member of the first eleven. 

Fenn looked annoyed. He had mis- 
counted the balls, and now his partner, 
who had no pretensions to be considered 
a bat, would have to face Kennedy. 

That mistake lost Kay’s the match. 

Impossible as he had found it to defeat 
Fenn, Kennedy had never lost his head or 
his length. He was bowling fully as well as 
he had done at the beginning of the innings. 

The last ball of the over beat the batsman 
all the way. He scooped blindly forward, 
missed it by a foot, and the next moment 
the off stump lay flat. Blackburn’s had 
won by seven runs. 


CHAPTER IV. 


HARMONY AND DISCORD. 

might be described as a mixed 
reception awaited the players as they 
left the field. The pavilion and the parts 
about the pavilion rails were always packed 
on the last day of a final house-match, and 
even in normal circumstances there was 
apt to he a little sparring between the 
juniors of the two houses which had been 
playing for the cup. In the present case, 
therefore, it was not surprising that Kay’s 
fags took che defeat badly. The thought 
that Fenn’s presence at the beginning of 
the innings, instead of at the end, would 
have made all the difference between a 
loss and a victory, maddened them. The 

S8 


40 


THE HEAD OF KA rS, 


crowd that seethed in front of the pavilion 
was a turbulent one. 

For a time the operation of chairing Fenn 
up the steps occupied the active minds of 
the Kayites. When he had disappeared 
into the first eleven room, they turned 
their attention in other directions. Caustic 
and uncomplimentary remarks began to fly 
to and fro between the representatives of 
Kay’s and Blackburn’s. It is not known 
who actually administered the first blow. 
But, when Fenn came out of the pavilion 
with Kennedy and Silver, he found a 
stirring battle in progress. The members 
of the other houses who had come to look 
on at the match stood in knots, and gazed 
with approval at the efforts of Kay’s and 
Blackburn’s juniors to wipe each other oft 
the face of the earth. The air was full 
of shrill battle-cries, varied now and then 
by a smack or a thud, as some young but 
strenuous fist found a billet. The fortune 
of war seemed to be distributed equally 
so far, and the combatants were just 
warming to their work. 


HARMONY AND DISCORD. 


41 


‘‘Look here,” said Kennedy, “we ought 
to stop this.” 

“What’s the good,” said Fenn, without 
interest, “ It pleases them, and doesn’t 
hurt anybody else.” 

“All the same,” observed Jimmy Silver, 
moving towards the nearest group of com- 
batants, “ free fights aren’t quite the thing, 
somehow. For, children, you should never 
let your angry passions rise; your little 
hands were never made to tear each other’s 
eyes. Dr Watts’ Advice to Young Pugilists. 
Drop it, you little beasts.” 

He separated two heated youths who 
were just beginning a fourth round. The 
rest of the warriors, seeing Silver and the 
others, called a truce, and Silver, having 
read a sort of Riot Act, moved on. The 
juniors of the beaten house, deciding that 
it would be better not to resume hostilities, 
consoled themselves by giving three groans 
for Mr Kay. 

“What happened after I left you last 
night, Fenn?” asked Kennedy. 

“Oh, I had one of my usual rows with 


42 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S, 


Kay, only rather worse than usual. I said 
one or two things he didn’t like, and to-day 
the old man sent for me and told me to 
come to his room from two till four. Kay 
had run me in for being ‘grossly rude.’ 
Listen to those kids. What a row they’re 
making ! ” 

“It’s a beastly shame,” said Kennedy 
despondently. 

. At the school shop Morrell, of Mul- 
holland’s, met them. He had been spending 
the afternoon with a rug and a novel on 
the hills at the back of the school, and 
he wanted to know how the final house- 
match had gone. Blackburn’s had beaten 
Mulholland’s in one of the early rounds. 
Kennedy explained what had happened. 

“ We should have lost if Fenn had turned 
up earlier,” he said. “ He had a row with 
Kay, and Kay gave him a sort of extra 
between two and four.” 

Fenn, busily occupied with an ice, added 
no comment of his own to this plain tale. 

“Rough luck,” said Morrell. “What’s 
all that row out in the field?” 


HARMONY AND DISCORD. 


43 


“That’s Kay’s kids giving three groans 
for Kay,” explained Silver. “ At least, 
they started with the idea of giving three 
groans. They’ve got up to about three 
hundred by this time. It seems to have 
fascinated them. They won’t leave off. 
There’s no school rule against groaning 
in the grounds, and they mean to groan 
till the end of the term. Personally, I 
like the sound. But then, I’m fond of 
music.” 

Morrell’s face beamed with sudden 
pleasure. “I knew there was something 
I wanted to tell you,” he said, “only I 
couldn’t remember what. Your saying 
you’re fond of music reminds me. Mul- 
holland’s crocked himself, and won’t be 
able to turn out for the concert.” 

“ What I ” cried Kennedy. “ How did 
it happen? What’s he done?” 

Mr Mulholland was the master who 
looked after the music of the school, a 
fine cricketer and keen sportsman. Had 
nothing gone wrong, he would have con- 
ducted at the concert that night. 


44 


THE HEAD OF HA 


“I heard it from the matron at our 
place,” said Morrell. She’s full of it. 
Mulholland was batting at the middle 
net, and somebody else — I forget who — 
was at the one next to it on the right. 
The bowler sent down a long hop to leg, 
and this Johnny had a smack at it, and 
sent it slap through the net, and it got 
Mulholland on the side of the head. He 
was stunned for a bit, but he’s getting all 
right again now. But he won’t be able 
to conduct to-night. Rather bad luck on 
the man, especially as he’s so keen on the 
concert.” 

‘‘Who’s going to sub. for him?” asked 
Silver. “ Perhaps they’ll scratch the show,” 
suggested Kennedy. 

“Oh, no,” said Morrell, “it’s all right. 
Kay is going to conduct. He’s often done 
it at choir practices when Mulholland 
couldn’t turn up.” 

Fenn put down his empty saucer with 
an emphatic crack on the counter. 

“If Kay’s going to run the show, 
I’m hanged if I turn up,” he said. 


HARMONY AND DISCORD. 


45 


“My dear chap, you can’t get out of it 
now,” said Kennedy anxiously. He did 
not want to see Fenn plunging into any 
more strife with the authorities this term. 

“Think of the crowned heads who are 
coming to hear you,” pleaded Jimmy 
Silver, “Think of the nobility and gentry. 
Think of me. You must play.” 

“ Ah, there you are, Fenn.” 

Mr Kay had bustled in in his energetic 
way. 

Fenn said nothing. He was there. It 
was idle to deny it. 

“ I thought I should find you here. 
Yes, I wanted to see you about the con- 
cert to-night. Mr Mulholland has met 
with an unfortunate accident, and I am 
looking after the entertainment in his 
place. Come with me and play over your 
piece. I should like to see that you are 
perfect in it. Dear me, dear me, what a 
noise those boys are making. Why are 
they behaving in that extraordinary way, 
I wonder I ” 

Kay’s juniors had left the pavilion, and 


46 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S. 


were trooping back to their house. At 
the present moment they were passing the 
school shop, and their tuneful voices 
floated in through the open window. 

“ This is very unusual. Why, they 
seem to be boys in my house. They are 
groaning.” 

“I think they are a little upset at the 
result of the match, sir,” said Jimmy 
Silver suavely. “Fenn did not arrive, for 
some reason, till the end of the innings, 
so Mr Blackburn’s won. The wicket was 
good, but a little fiery.” 

“ Thank you. Silver,” replied Mr Kay 
with asperity. “When I require explana- 
tions I will ask for them.” 

He darted out of the shop, and a 
moment later they heard him pouring out 
a fiood of recriminations on the groaning 
fags. 

“There was once a man who snubbed 
me,” said Jimmy Silver. “They buried 
him at Brookwood. Well, what are you 
going to do, Fenn? Going to play to- 
night? Harkee, boy. Say but the word. 


HARMONY AND DISCORD. 


47 


and I will beard this tyrant to his 
face.” 

Fenn rose. 

“ Yes,” he said briefly, “ I shall play 
You’d better turn up. I think you’ll 
enjoy it.” 

Silver said that no human power should 
keep him away. 

The School concert was always one of 
the events of the summer term. There 
was a concert at the end of the winter 
term, too, but it was not so important. 
To a great many of those present the 
summer concert marked, as it were, the 
last flutter of their school life. On the 
morrow they would be Old Boys, and it 
behoved them to extract as much enjoy- 
ment from the function as they could. 
Under Mr Mulholland’s rule the concert 
had become a very flourishing institution. 
He aimed at a high standard, and reached 
it. There was more than a touch of the 
austere about the music. A glance at the 
programme was enough to show the lover 


48 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S, 


of airs of the trashy, clashy order that this 
was no place for him. Most of the items 
were serious. When it was thought 
necessary to introduce a lighter touch, 

some staidly rollicking number was in- 
serted, some song that was saved — in 
spite of a catchy tune — by a halo of 
antiquity. Anything modern was taboo, 

unless it were the work of Gotsuchakoflf, 
Thingummyowsky, or some other eminent 

foreigner. Foreign origin made it just 

possible. 

The school prefects lurked during the 

performance at the doors and at the foot 
of the broad stone steps that led to the 
Great Hall. It was their duty to supply 
visitors with programmes. 

Jimmy Silver had foregathered with 

Kennedy, Challis, and Williams at the 

junior door. The hall was full now, and 
their labours consequently at an end. 

‘‘Pretty good ‘gate,’” said Silver, 

looking in through the open door. “It 
must be warm up in the gallery.” 

Across the further end of the hall a dais 


HAkMoNV AND DISCORD. 


49 


had been erected. On this the bulk of the 
school sat, leaving the body of the hall 
to the crowned heads, nobility, and gentry 
to whom Silver had referred in his con- 
versation with Fenn. 

“ It always is warm in the gallery,” 
said Challis. ‘‘ I lost about two stone there 
every concert when I was a kid. We simply 
used to sit and melt.” 

“And I tell you what,” broke in Silver, 
“it’s going to get warmer before the end 
of the show. Do you notice that all Kay’s 
house are sitting in a lump at the back. I 
bet they’re simply spoiling for a row. 
Especially now Kay’s running the concert. 
There’s going to be a hot time in the old 
town to-night — you see if there isn’t- 
Hark at ’em.” 

The choir had just come to the end of 
a little thing of Handel’s. There was no 
reason to suppose that the gallery appre- 
ciated Handel. Nevertheless, they were 
making a deafening noise. Clouds of dust 
rose from the rhythmical stamping of many 
feet. The noise was loudest and the dust 

D 


50 


THE head OE KA 


thickest by the big window, beneath which 
sat the men from Kay’s. Things were 
warming up. 

The gallery, with one last stamp which 
nearly caused the dais to collapse, quieted 
down. The masters in the audience looked 
serious. One or two of the visitors glanced 
over their shoulders with a smile. How 
excited the dear boys were at the prospect 
of holidays I Young blood ! Young blood I 
Boys would be boys. 

The concert continued. Half-way through 
the programme there was a ten minutes’ 
interval. Fenn’s pianoforte solo was the 
second item of the second half. 

He mounted the platform amidst howls 
of delight from the gallery. Applause at 
the Eckleton concerts was granted more 
for services in the playing-fields than merit 
as a musician. Kubelik or Paderewski 
would have been welcomed with a few 
polite handclaps. A man in the eleven or 
fifteen was certain of two minutes’ un- 
ceasing cheers. 

“ Evidently one of their heroes, my dear,” 


HARMONY AND DISCORD. 


51 


said Paterfamilias to Materfamilias. I 
suppose he has won a scholarship at the 
University.” 

Paterfamilias’ mind was accustomed to 
run somewhat upon scholarships at the 
University. What the school wanted was 
a batting average of forty odd or a bowling 
analysis in single figures. 

Fenn played the “ Moonlight Sonata.” 
A trained musical critic would probably 
have found much to cavil at in his render- 
ing of the piece, but it was undoubtedly 
good for a public school player. Of course 
he was encored. The gallery would have 
encored him if he had played with one 
finger, three mistakes to every bar. 

‘‘I told Fenn,” said Jimmy Silver, “if 
he got an encore, that he ought to play 
the My aunt ! He is ! ” 

Three runs and half-a-dozen crashes, and 
there was no further room for doubt. 
Fenn was playing the “Coon Band Contest.” 

“ He’s gone mad,” gasped Kennedy. 

Whether he had or not, it is certain that 
the gallery had. All the evening they had 


52 


THE HEAD OF KA VS. 


been stewing in an atmosphere like that 
of the inner room of a Turkish bath, and 
they were ready for anything. It needed 
but a trifle to set them off. The lilt of 
that unspeakable Yankee melody supplied 
that trifle. Kay’s malcontents, huddled in 
their seats by the window, were the first 
to break out. Feet began to stamp in 
time to the music — softly at first, then 
more loudly. The wooden dais gave out 
the sound like a drum. 

Other rioters joined in from the right. 
The noise spread through the gallery as a 
fire spreads through gcrse. Soon three 
hundred pairs of well-shod feet were rising 
and falling. Somebody began to whistle. 
Everybody whistled. Mr Kay was on his 
feet, gesticulating wildly. His words were 
lost in the uproar. 

For five minutes the din prevailed. Then, 
with a final crash, Fenn finished. He got 
up from the music-stool, bowed, and walked 
back to his place by the senior door. The 
musical efforts of the gallery changed to 
a storm of cheering and clapping. 


HARMONY AND DISCORD. 


53 


The choir rose to begin the next piece. 

Still the noise continued. 

People began to leave the Hall — in ones 
and twos first, then in a steady stream 
which blocked the doorways. It was plain 
to the dullest intelligence that if there was 
going to be any more concert, it would 
have to be performed in dumb show. Mr 
Kay flung down his bdton. 

The visitors had left by now, and the 
gallery was beginning to follow their 
example, howling as it went. 

‘‘Well,” said Jimmy Silver cheerfully, 
as he went with Kennedy down the steps, 
“I think we may call that a record. By 
my halidom, therell be a row about this 
later on.” 


CHAPTER V. 


CAMP. 

the best intentions in the world, 
however, a headmaster cannot make 
a row about a thing unless he is given a 
reasonable amount of time to make it in. 
The concert being on the last evening of 
term, there was only a single morning before 
the summer holidays, and that morning was 
occupied with the prize-giving. The school 
assembled at ten o’clock with a shadowy 
hope that this prize-day would be more 
exciting than the general run of prize-days, 
but they were disappointed. The function 
passed off without sensation. The head- 
master did not denounce the school in an 
impassioned speech from the dais. He did 
not refer to the events of the previous 


CAMP. 


55 


evening. At the same time, his demeanour 
was far from jovial. It lacked that rollick- 
ing bonhomie which we like to see in 
headmasters on prize-day. It was evident 
to the most casual observer that the affair 
was not closed. The school would have to 
pay the bill sooner or later. But eight 
weeks would elapse before the day of 
reckoning, which was a comforting thought. 

The last prize was handed over to its 
rightful owner. The last and dullest vote 
of thanks had been proposed by the last 
and dullest member of the board of 
governors. The Bishop of Rumtifoo (who 
had been selected this year to distribute 
the prizes) had worked off his seventy 
minutes’ speech (inaudible, of course, as 
usual), and was feeling much easier. The 
term had been formally declared at an end, 
and those members of the school corps 
who were going to camp were beginning 
to assemble in front of the buildings. 

“I wonder why it always takes about 
three hours to get us ofi to the station,” 
said Jimmy Silver. “I’ve been to camp 


S6 


THE HEAD OF KAY^S. 


two years now, and there’s always been 
this rotting about in the grounds before 
we start. Nobody’s likely to turn up to 
inspect us for the next hour or so. If 
any gent cares to put in a modest ginger- 
beer at the shop, I’m with him.” 

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t,” said 
Kennedy. He had seen Fenn go into the 
shop, and wished to talk to him. He had 
not seen him after the concert, and he 
thought it would be interesting to know 
how Kay had taken it, and what his 
comments had been on meeting Fenn in 
the house that night. 

Fenn had not much to say. 

“He was rather worried,” he said, 
grinning as if the recollection of the 
interview amused him. “ But he couldn’t 
do anything. Of course, there’ll be a row 
next term, but it can’t be helped.” 

“If I were you,” said Silver, “I should 
point out to them that you’d a perfect 
right to play what you liked for an encore. 
How were you to know the gallery would 
go off like that? You aren’t responsible 


CAMP, 


57 


for them. Hullo, there’s that bugle. 
Things seem to be on the move. We 
must go.” 

‘‘So long,” said Fenn. 

“Good-bye. Mind you come off against 
Middlesex.” 

Kennedy stayed for a moment. 

“Has the Old Man said anything to you 
yet ? ” he asked. 

“Not yet. He’ll do that next term. 
It’ll be something to look forward to.” 

Kennedy hurried off to take his place in 
the ranks. 

Getting to camp at the end of the summer 
term is always a nuisance. Aldershot seems 
a long way from everywhere, and the trains 
take their time over the journey. Then, 
again, the heat always happens to be 
particularly oppressive on that day. Snow 
may have fallen on the day before, but 
directly one sets out for camp, the ther- 
mometer goes up into three figures. The 
Eckleton contingent marched into the lines 
damp and very thirsty. 

Most of the other schools were already 


58 


THE HEAD OF KA y*S. 


on the spot, and looked as if they had 
been spending the last few years there. 
There was nothing particular going on 
when the Eckleton warriors arrived, and 
everybody was lounging about in khaki 
and shirt-sleeves, looking exasperatingly 
cool. The only consolation which buoyed 
up the spirits of Eckleton was the reflection 
that in a short space of time, when the 
important-looking gentleman in uniform 
who had come to meet them had said all 
he wanted to say on the subject of rules 
and regulations, they would be like that 
too. Happy thought ! If the man bucked 
up and cut short the peroration, there would 
be time for a bathe in Cove Reservoir. 
Those of the corps who had been to camp 
in previous years felt quite limp with the 
joy of the thought. Why couldn’t he get 
through with it, and give a fellow a chance 
of getting cool again? 

The gist of the oration was apparently 
that the Eckleton cadets were to consider 
themselves not only as soldiers — and as 
such subject to military discipline, and 


CAMP, 


59 


the rules for the conduct of troops quartered 
in the Aldershot district — but also as 
members of a public school. In short, 
that if they misbehaved themselves they 
would get cells, and a hundred lines in 
the same breath, as it were. 

The corps knew all this ages ago. The 
man seemed to think he was telling them 
something fresh. They began positively to 
dislike him after a while. 

He finished at last. Eckleton marched 
off wearily, but in style, to its lines. 

‘‘ Dis-miss I 

They did. 

“ And about time, too,” said Jimmy 
Silver. “I wish they would tie that man 
up, or something. He’s one of the worst 
bores I know. He may be full of bright 
conversation in private life, but in public 
he will talk about his beastly military 
regulations. You can’t stop him. It’s a 
perfect mania with him. Now, I believe — 
that’s to say, I have a sort of dim idea — 
that there’s a place round about here called 
a canteen. I seem to remember such a 


6o 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


thing vaguely. We might go and look 
for it.” 

Kennedy made no objection. 

This was his first appearance at camp. 
Jimmy Silver, on the other hand, was a 
veteran. He had been there twice before, 
and meant to go again. He had a peculiar 
and extensive knowledge of the ins and 
outs of the place. Kennedy was quite 
willing to take him as his guide. He was 
full of information. Kennedy was surprised 
to see what a number of men from the 
other schools he seemed to know. In the 
canteen there were, amongst others, a 
Carthusian, two Tonbridge men, and a 
Haileyburian. They all greeted Silver with 
the warmth of old friends. 

‘‘You get to know a lot of fellows in 
camp,” explained Jimmy, as they strolled 
back to the Eckleton lines. “That’s the 
best of the place. Camp’s the best place 
on earth, if only you have decent weather. 
See that chap over there? He came here 
last year. He’d never been before, and 
one of the things he didn’t know was that 


CAMP. 


6i 


Cove Reservoir’s only about three feet deep 
round the sides. He took a running dive, 
and almost buried himself in the mud. 
It’s about two feet deep. He told me 
afterwards he swallowed pounds of it. 
Rather bad luck. Somebody ought to 
have told him. You can’t do much diving 
here.” 

‘‘Glad you mentioned it,” said Kennedy. 
“ I should have dived myself if you hadn’t.” 

Many other curious and diverting facts 
did the expert drag from the bonded 
warehouse of his knowledge. Nothing 
changes at camp. Once get to know the 
ropes, and you know them for all time. 

“The one thing I bar,” he said, “is 
having to get up at half-past five. And 
one day in the week, when there’s a 
divisional field-day, it’s half-past four. It’s 
hardly worth while going to sleep at all. 
Still, it isn’t so bad as it used to be. 
The first year I came to camp we used to 
have to do a three hours’ field-day before 
brekker. We used to have coffee before 
it, and nothing else till it was over. By 


62 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S, 


Jove, you felt you’d had enough of it 
before you got back. This is LaffaiTs 
Plain. The worst of Laffan’s Plain is that 
you get to know it too well. You get 
jolly sick of always starting on field-days 
from the same place, and marching across 
the same bit of ground. Still, I suppose 
they can’t alter the scenery for our benefit. 
See that man there? He won the sabres 
at Aldershot last year. That chap with 
him is in the Clifton footer team.” 

When a school corps goes to camp, it 
lives in a number of tents, and, as a rule, 
each house collects in a tent of its own. 
Blackburn’s had a tent, and further down 
the line Kay’s had assembled. The Kay 
contingent were under Way burn, a good 
sort, as far as he himself was concerned, 
but too weak to handle a mob like Kay’s. 
Wayburn was not coming back after the 
holidays, a fact which perhaps still further 
weakened his hold on the Kayites. They 
had nothing to fear from him next term. 

Kay’s was represented at camp by a 
dozen or so of its members, of whom young 


Camp. 


63 


Billy Silver alone had any pretensions to 
the esteem of his fellow man. Kay’s was 
the rowdiest house in the school, and the 
cream of its rowdy members had come to 
camp. There was Walton, for one, a perfect 
specimen of the public school man at his 
worst. There was Mortimer, another of 
Kay’s gems. Perry, again, and Callingham, 
and the rest. A pleasant gang, fit for 
anything, if it could be done in safety. 

Kennedy observed them, and — the spec- 
tacle starting a train of thought — asked 
Jimmy Silver, as they went into their 
tent just before lights-out, if there was 
much ragging in camp. 

“ Not very much,” said the expert. 
“Chaps are generally too done up at the 
end of the day to want to do anything 
except sleep. Still, IVe known cases. You 
sometimes get one tent mobbing another. 
They loose the ropes, you know. Low 
trick, I think. It isn’t often done, and it 
gets dropped on like bricks when it’s 
found out. But why? Do you feel as if 
you wanted to do it ? ” 


64 


The head oe ka 


“It only occurred to me that weVe got 
a lively gang from Kay’s here. I was 
wondering if they’d get any chances of 
ragging, or if they’d have to lie low.” 

“I’d forgotten Kay’s for the moment. 
Now you mention it, they are rather a 
crew. But I shouldn’t think they’d find 
it worth while to rot about here. It isn’t 
as if they were on their native heath. 
People have a prejudice against having 
their tent-ropes loosed, and they’d get 
beans if they did anything in that line. 
I remember once there was a tent which 
made itself objectionable, and it got raided 
in the night by a sort of vigilance com- 
mittee from the other schools, and the 
chaps in it got the dickens of a time. 
None of them ever came to camp again. 
I hope Kay’s ’ll try and behave decently. 
It’ll be an effort for them; but I hope 
they’ll make it. It would be an awful 
nuisance if young Billy made an ass of 
himself in any way. He loves making an 
ass of himself It’s a sort of hobby of his.” 

As if to support the statement, a sudden 


CAMP. 


65 


volley of subdued shouts came from the 
other end of the Eckleton lines. 

“ Go it, Wren I " 

“Stick to it, Silver I” 

“Wren!” 

“Silver!*’ 

“ S-s>h ! ” 

Silence, followed almost immediately by 
a gruff voice inquiring with simple direct- 
ness what the dickens all this noise was 
about. 

“ Hullo I ” said Kennedy. “ Did you hear 
that? I wonder what’s been up? Your 
brother was in it, whatever it was.” 

“Of course,” said Jimmy Silver, “he 
would be. We can’t find out about it 
now, though. I’ll ask him to-morrow, if I 
remember. I shan’t remember, of course. 
Good-night.” 

“ Good-night.” 

Half an hour later, Kennedy, who had 
been ruminating over the incident in his 
usual painstaking way, reopened the debate. 

“Who’s Wren?” he askei 

“ Wha’ ? ” murmured Silver, sleepily. 

B 


66 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S. 


“Who’s Wren?” repeated Kennedy, 

“ I d’know. . . . Oh. . . . Li’l’ beast. . . • 
Kay’s. ! . . Red hair. . . . G’-ni’.” 

And sleep reigned in Blackburn’s tent. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE RAID ON THE GUARD-TENT. 

T^REN and Billy Silver had fallen out 
" * over a question of space. It was 
Silver’s opinion that Wren’s nest ought to 
have been built a foot or two further to 
the left. He stated baldly that he had 
not room to breathe, and requested the 
red-headed one to ease off a point or so 
in the direction of his next-door neighbour. 
Wren had refused, and, after a few moments’ 
chatty conversation, smote William earnestly 
in the wind. Trouble had begun upon the 
instant. ^It had ceased almost as rapidly 
owing to interruptions from without, but 
the truce had been merely temporary. 
They continued the argument outside the 
tent at five-thirty the next morning, after 


68 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


the reveille had sounded, amidst shouts of 
approval from various shivering mortals 
who were tubbing preparatory to embark- 
ing on the labours of the day. 

A brisk first round had just come to a 
conclusion when Walton lounged out of the 
tent, yawning. 

Walton proceeded to separate the com- 
batants. After which he rebuked Billy 
Silver with a swagger-stick. Wren’s share 
in the business he overlooked. He was by 
way of being a patron of Wren’s, and he 
disliked Billy Silver, partly for his own 
sake and partly because he hated his 
brother, with whom he had come into 
contact once or twice during his career 
at Eckieton, always with unsatisfactory 
results. 

So Walton dropped on to Billy Silver, 
and Wren continued his toilet rejoicing. 

Camp was beginning the strenuous life 
now. Tent after tent emptied itself of its 
occupants, who stretched themselves vigor- 
ously, and proceeded towards the tubbing- 
ground, where there were tin baths for 


THE RAID ON THE GUARD-TENT. 69 


those who cared to wait until the same 
were vacant, and a good, honest pump for 
those who did not. Then there was that 
unpopular job, the piling of one’s bedding 
outside the tent, and the rolling up of the 
tent curtains. But these unpleasant duties 
came to an end at last, and signs of 
breakfast began to appear. 

Breakfast gave Kennedy his first insight 
into life in camp. He happened to be 
tent-orderly that day, and it therefore fell 
to his lot to join the orderlies from the 
other tents in their search for the Eckleton 
rations. He returned with a cargo of bread 
(obtained from the quartermaster), and, 
later, with a great tin of meat, which the 
cook-house had supplied, and felt that this 
was life. Hitherto breakfast had been to 
him a thing of white cloths, tables, and 
food that appeared from nowhere. This 
was the first time he had ever tracked his 
food to its source, so to speak, and brought 
it back with him. After breakfast, when 
ke was informed that, as tent-orderly for 
ihe day, it was his business to wash «p, 


70 


THE HEAD OF KA Y*S, 


he began to feel as if he were on a desert 
island. He had never quite realised before 
what washing-up implied, and he was 
conscious of a feeling of respect for the 
servants at Blackburn’s, who did it every 
day as a matter of course, without com- 
plaint. He had had no idea before this of 
the intense stickiness of a jammy plate. 

One day at camp is much like another. 
The schools opened the day with parade 
drill at about eight o’clock, and, after an 
instruction series of “ changing direction 
half-left in column of double companies,” 
and other pleasant movements of a similar 
nature, adjourned for lunch. Lunch was 
much like breakfast, except that the supply 
of jam was cut off. The people who 
arrange these things — probably the War 
Office, or Mr Brodrick, or someone — have 
come to the conclusion that two pots of 
jam per tent are sufficient for breakfast 
and lunch. The unwary devour theirs 
recklessly at the earlier meal, and have to 
go jamless until tea at six o’clock, when 
another pot is served ouk 


THE RAID ON THE GUARD^TENT, 


71 


The afternoon at camp is perfect or 
otherwise, according to whether there is a 
four o’clock field day or not. If there is, 
there are^ more manoeuvrings until tea- 
time, and the time is spent profitably, but 
not so pleasantly as it might be. If there 
is no field-day, you can take your time 
about your bathe in Cove Reservoir. And 
a really satisfactory bathe on a hot day 
should last at least three hours. Kennedy 
and Jimmy Silver strolled oft in the direc- 
tion of the Reservoir as soon as they felt 
that they had got over the effects of the 
beef, potatoes, and ginger-beer which a 
generous commissariat had doled out to 
them for lunch. It was a glorious day, 
and bathing was the only thing to do for 
the next hour or so. Stump-cricket, that 
fascinating sport much indulged in in 
camp, would not be at its best until the 
sun had cooled off a little. 

After a pleasant half hour in the mud 
and water of the Reservoir, they lay on 
the bank and watched the rest of the 
schools take their afternoon dip. Kennedy 


72 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S, 


had laid in a supply of provisions from 
the stall which stood at the camp end of 
the water. Neither of them felt inclined 
to move. 

“ This is decent,” said Kennedy, wriggling 
into a more comfortable position in the 
long grass. “ Hullo ! ” 

“What’s up?” inquired Jimmy Silver, 
lazily. 

He was almost asleep. 

“Look at those idiots. They’re certain 
to get spotted.” 

Jimmy Silver tilted his hat off his face, 
and sat up. 

“ What’s the matter ? Which idiot ? ” 

Kennedy pointed to a bush on their 
right. Walton and Perry were seated 
beside it. Both were smoking. 

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Silver. 
“Masters never come to Cove Reservoir. 
It’s a sort of unwritten law. They’re 
rotters to smoke, all the same. Certain 
to get spotted some day. . . . Not worth 
it. . . . Spoils lungs. . . . Beastly bad . . . 
training.” 


THE RAID ON THE GUARD-TENT 


73 


He dozed off. The sun was warm, and 
the gra^s very soft and comfortable. 
Kennedy turned his gaze to the Reservoir 
again. It was no business of his what 
Walton and Perry did. 

Walton and Perry were discussing ways 
and means. The conversation changed as 
they saw Kennedy glance at them. They 
were the sort of persons who feel a vague 
sense of injury when anybody looks at 
them, perhaps because they feel that those 
whose attention is attracted to them must 
say something to their discredit when they 
begin to talk about them 

“There’s that beast Kennedy,” said 
Walton. “I can’t stick that man. He’s 
always hanging round the house. What 
he comes for, I can’t make out.” 

“Pal of Fenn’s,” suggested Perry. 

“ He hangs on to Fenn. I bet Fenn 
bars him really.” 

Perry doubted this in his innermost 
thoughts, but it was not worth while to 
say so. 

“Those Blackburn chaps,” continued 


74 


THE HEAD OF KA TS. 


Walton, reverting to another grievance, 

will stick on no end of side next term 
about that cup. They wouldn’t have had 
a look in if Kay hadn’t given Fenn that 
extra. Kay ought to be kicked. I’m 
hanged if I’m going to care what I do 
next term. Somebody ought to do some- 
thing to take it out of Kay for getting his 
own house licked like that.” 

Walton spoke as if the line of conduct he 
had mapped out for himself would be a com- 
plete reversal of his customary mode of life. 
As a matter of fact, he had never been in 
the habit of caring very much what he did. 

Walton’s last remarks brought the con- 
versation back to where it had been before 
the mention of Kennedy switched it off on 
to new lines. Perry had been complaining 
that he thought camp a fraud, that it was 
all drilling and getting up at unearthly 
hours. He reminded Walton that he had 
only come on the strength of the latter’s 
statement that it would be a rag. Where 
did the rag come in ? That was what 
Perry wanted to know 


THE RAID ON THE GUARD^TENT, 


75 


‘‘When it’s not a ghastly sweat,” he 
concluded, ‘‘it’s slow. Like it is now. 
Can’t we do something for a change ? ” 

‘‘As a matter of fact,” said Walton, 
“nearly all the best rags are played out. 
A chap at a crammer’s told me last hoh- 
days that when he was at camp he and 
some other fellows loosed the ropes of the 
guard-tent. He said it was grand sport.” 

Perry sat up. 

“That’s the thing,” he said, excitedly. 

‘Let’s do that. Why not?” 

“It’s beastly risky,” objected Walton. 

“What’s that matter? They can’t do 
anything, even if they spot us.” 

“That’s all you know. We should get 
beans.” 

“Still, it’s worth risking. It would be 
the biggest rag going. Did the chap tell 
you how they did it ? ” 

“Yes,” said Walton, becoming animated 
as he recalled the stii'ring tale, “ they 
bagged the sentry. Chucked a cloth or 
something over his head, you know. Then 
they shoved him into the ditch, and one 


76 


THE HEAD OF KAY'S. 


of them sat on him while the others 
loosed the ropes. It took the chaps inside 
no end of a tune getting out.*’ 

“That’s the thing. We’ll do it. We 
only need one other chap. Leveson would 
come if we asked him. Let’s get back to 
the lines. It’s almost tea-time. Tell him 
after tea.” 

Leveson proved agreeable. Indeed, he 
jumped at it. His life, his attitude 
suggested, had been a hollow mockery 
until he heard the plan, but now he could 
begin to enjoy himself once more. 

The lights-out bugle sounded at ten 
o’clock; the last post at ten-thirty. At a 
quarter to twelve the three adventurers, 
who had been keeping themselves awake 
by the exercise of great pains, satisfied 
themselves that the other occupants of the 
tent were asleep, and stole out. 

It was an excellent night for their 
purpose. There was no moon, and the 
stars were hidden by clouds. 

They crept silently towards the guard- 
tent. A dim figure loomed out of the 


THE RAID ON THE GUARD-TENT 


77 


blackness. They noted with satisfaction, 
as it approached, that it was small. 
Sentries at the public-school camp vary 
in physique. They felt that it was lucky 
that the task of sentry-go had not fallen 
that night to some muscular forward from 
one of the school fifteens, or worse still, 
to a boxing expert who had figured in the 
Aldershot competition at Easter. The 
present sentry would be an easy victim. 

They waited for him to arrive. 

A moment later Private Jones, of St 
Asterisk’s — for it was he — turning to 
resume his beat, found himself tackled 
from behind. Two moments later he was 
reclining in the ditch. He would have 
challenged his adversary, but, unfortunately, 
that individual happened to be seated on 
his face. 

He struggled, but to no purpose. 

He was still struggling when a muffled 
roar of indignation from the direction ot 
the guard-tent broke the stillness of the 
summer night. The roar swelled into a 
crescendo. What seemed like echoes came 


7 « 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S. 


from other quarters out of the darkness. 
The camp was waking. 

The noise from the guard-tent waxed 
louder. 

The unknown marauder rose from his 
seat on Private Jones, and vanished. 

Private Jones also rose. He climbed 
out of the ditch, shook himself, looked 
round for his assailant, and, not finding 
him, hurried to the guard-tent to see what 
was happening. 


CHAPTER VIL 

A CLUB. 

^HE guard-tent had disappeared. 

Private Jones’ bewildered eye, rolling 
in a fine frenzy from heaven to earth, and 
from earth to heaven, in search of the 
missing edifice, found it at last in a 
tangled heap upon the ground. It was 
too dark to see anything distinctly, but 
he perceived that the canvas was rising 
and falling spasmodically like a stage sea, 
and for a similar reason — because there 
were human beings imprisoned beneath 
it. 

By this time the whole camp was up 
and doing. Figures in ddshdbille^ dashing 
the last vestiges of sleep away with their 

7 » 


THE HEAD OE HA Y^S. 


So 

knuckles, trooped on to the scene in twos 
and threes, full of inquiry and trenchant 
sarcasm. 

“ What are you men playing at ? What’s 
all the row about? Can’t you finish that 
game of footer some other time, when 
we aren’t trying to get to sleep? What 
on earth’s up ? ** 

Then the voice of one having authority. 

“What’s the matter? What are you 
doing ? ” 

It was perfectly obvious what the guard 
was doing. It was trying to get out from 
underneath the fallen tent. Private Jones 
explained this with some warmth. 

“Somebody jumped at me and sat on 
ray head in the ditch. I couldn’t get 
up. And then some blackguard cut the 
ropes of the guard-tent. I couldn’t see 
who it was. He cut off directly the tent 
went down.” 

Private Jones further expressed a wish 
that he could find the chap. When he 
did, there would, he hinted, be trouble in 
the old homestead. 


A CLUE. 


8i 


The tent was beginning to disgorge its 
prisoners. 

‘‘ Guard, turn out I ” said a facetious 
voice trom the darkness. 

The camp was divided into two schools 
of thought. Those who were watching 
the guard struggle out thought the episode 
funny. The guard did not. It was 
pathetic to hear them on the subject of 
their mysterious assailants. 

Matters quieted down rapidly after the 
tent had been set up again. The spectators 
were driven back to their lines by their 
officers. The guard turned in again to 
try and restore their shattered nerves 
with sleep until their time for sentry-go 
came round. Private Jones picked up 
his rifle and resumed his beat. The affair 
was at an end as far as that night was 
concerned. 

Next morning, as might be expected, 
nothing else was talked about. Conversa- 
tion at breakfast was confined to the topic. 
No halfpenny paper, however many times 

its circulation might exceed that of any 

F 


Si 


THE HEAD OF KAY'S. 


penny morning paper, ever propounded so 
fascinating and puzzling a breakfast-table 
problem. It was the utter impossibility 
of detecting the culprits that appealed 
to the schools. They had swooped down 
like hawks out of the night, and disappeared 
like eels into mud, leaving no traces. 

Jimmy Silver, of course, had no doubts. 

It was those Kay’s men,” he said. 
“What does it matter about evidence? 
You’ve only got to look at ’em. That’s 
all the evidence you want. The only thing 
that makes it at aU puzzling is that they 
did nothing worse. You’d naturally expect 
them to slay the sentry, at any rate.” 

But the rest of the camp, lacking that 
intimate knowledge of the Kayite which 
he possessed, did not turn the eye of 
suspicion towards the Eckleton lines. The 
affair remained a mystery. Kennedy, who 
never gave up a problem when everybody 
else did, continued to revolve the mystery 
in his mind. 

“I shouldn’t wonder,” he said to Silver, 
two days later, “if you were right.” 


A CLUE, 


«3 


Silver, who had not made any remark 
for the last five minutes, with the exception 
of abusive comments on the toughness of 
the meat which he was trying to carve 
with a blunt knife for the tent, asked for 
an explanation. 

“I mean about that row the other night.” 

What row ? ” 

“That guard-tent business.” 

“Oh, that! rd forgotten. Why don’t 
you move with the times? You’re always 
thinking of something that’s been dead 
and buried for years.” 

“You remember you said you thought 
it was those Kay’s chaps who did it. I’ve 
been thinking it over, and I believe you’re 
right. You see, it was probably somebody 
who’d been to camp before, or he wouldn’t 
have known that dodge of loosing the 
ropes.” 

“ I don’t see why. Seems to me it’s 
the sort of idea that might have occurred 
to anybody. You don’t want to study 
the thing particularly deeply to know 
that the best way of making a tent 


84 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


collapse is to loose the ropes. Of course 
it was Kay’s lot who did it. But I don’t 
see how you’re going to have them simply 
because one or two of them have been 
here before.” 

‘‘No, I suppose c not,” said Kennedy. 

After tea the other occupants of the 
tent went out of the lines to play stump- 
cricket. Silver was in the middle of a 
story in one of the magazines, so did not 
accompany them. Kennedy cried off on 
the plea of slackness. 

“I say,” he said, when they were alone. 

“Hullo,” said Silver, finishing his story, 
and putting down the magazine. “What 
do you say to going after those chaps? I 
thought that story was going to be a long 
one that would take half an hour to get 
through. But it collapsed. Like that 
guard-tent.” 

“ About that tent business,” said 
Kennedy. “Of course that was all rot 
what I was saying just now. I suddenly 
remembered that I didn’t particularly 
want anybody but you to hear what I 


A CLUB. 


»5 

was going to say, so I had to invent any 
rot that I could think of.” 

But now,” said Jimmy Silver, sinking 
his voice to a melodramatic whisper, ‘‘the 
villagers have left us to continue their 
revels on the green, our wicked uncle has 
gone to London, his sinister retainer, 
Jasper Murgleshaw, is washing his hands 
in the scullery sink, and — we cure alone ! ” 

“Don’t be an ass,” pleaded Kennedy. 

“ Tell me your dreadful tale. Conceal 
nothing. Spare me not. In fact, say on.” 

“ I’ve had a talk with the chap who 
was sentry that night,” began Kennedy. 

“Astounding revelations by our special 
correspondent,” murmured Silver. 

“You might listen.” 

“ I am listening. Why don’t you begin ? 
All this hesitation strikes me as suspicious. 
Get on with your shady story.” 

“ You remember the sentry was 
upset ” 

“Very upset.” 

“Somebody collared him from behind, 
and upset him into the ditch. They went 


THE HEAD OF KATS, 


in together, and the other man sat on 
his head.” 

“A touching picture. Proceed, friend.” 

“ They rolled about a bit, and this sentry 
chap swears he scratched the man. It was 
just after that that the man sat on his head. 
Jones says he was a big chap, strong and 
heavy.” 

“He was in a position to judge, anyhow.” 

“Of course, he didn’t mean to scratch 
him. He was rather keen on having 
that understood. But his fingers came 
up against the fellow’s cheek as he was 
falling. So you see we’ve only got to look 
for a man with a scratch on his cheek. 
It was the right cheek, Jones was almost 
certain. I don't see what you’re laughing 
at.” 

“ I wish you wouldn’t spring these good 
things of yours on me suddenly,” gurgled 
Jimmy Silver, rolling about the wooden 
floor of the tent. “You ought to give 
a chap some warning. Look here,” he 
added, imperatively, “ swear you’ll take 
me with you when you go on your tour 


A CLUE. 


*7 


through camp examining everybody’s 
right cheek to see if it’s got a scratch 
on it.” 

Kennedy began to feel the glow and 
pride of the successful sleuth-hound leaking 
out of him. This aspect of the case had 
not occurred to him. The fact that the 
sentry had scratched his assailant’s right 
cheek, added to the other indubitable fact 
that Walton, of Kay’s, was even now 
walking abroad with a scratch on his right 
cheek, had seemed to him conclusive. He 
had forgotten that there might be others. 
Still, it was worth while just to question 
him. He questioned him at Cove Reservoir 
next day. 

“ Hullo, Walton,” he said, with a friendly 
carelessness which would not have deceived 
a prattling infant, “nasty scratch you’ve 
got on your cheek. How did you get it ? ” 

“Perry did it when we were ragging a 
few days ago,” replied Walton, eying him 
distrustfully. 

“Oh,” said Kennedy. 

“Silly fool,” said Walton. 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 




“ Talking about me ? ” inquired Kennedy 
politely. 

“ No,’* replied Walton, with the suavity 
of a Chesterfield, “Perry.” 

They parted, Kenned}" with the idea that 
Walton was his man still more deeply 
rooted, Walton with an uncomfortable 
feeling that Kennedy knew too much, 
and that, though he had undoubtedly 
scored off him for the moment, a time 
(as Jimmy Silver was fond of observing 
with a Satanic laugh) would come, and 
then — I 

He felt that it behoved him to be 

wiw’y. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A NIGHT ADVENTUKE. — THE DETHRONEMENT 
OF FENN. 

^NE of the things which make life on 

this planet more or less agreeable is 

the speed with which alarums, excursions, 

excitement, and rows generally, blow over. 

A nine-days’ wonder has to be a big 

business to last out its full time nowadays. 

As a rule the third day sees the end of 

it, and the public rushes whooping after 

some other hare that has been started 

for its benefit. The guard-tent row, as far 

as the bulk of camp was concerned, lasted 

exactly two days; at the end of which 

period it was generally agreed"^ that all 

that could be said on the subject had 

been said, and that it was now a back 
a 


90 


THE HEAD OF KAY^S. 


number. Nobody, except possibly the 
authorities, wanted to find out the authors 
of the raid, and even Private Jones had 
ceased to talk about it — this owing to the 
unsympathetic attitude of his tent. 

“Jones,” the corporal had observed, as 
the ex-sentry’s narrative of his misfortunes 
reached a finish for the third time since 
reveille that morning, “ if you can’t manage 
to switch off that infernal chestnut of 
yours. I’ll make you wash up all day and 
sit on your head all night.” 

So Jones had withdrawn his yarn from 
circulation. Kennedy’s interest in detective 
work waned after his interview with Walton. 
He was quite sure that Walton had been 
one of the band, but it was not his business 
to find out; even had he found out, Ae 
would, have done nothing. It was more 
for his own private satisfaction than for 
the furtherance of justice that he wished 
to track the offenders down. But he did 
not look on the affair, as Jimmy Silver did, 
as rather sporting ; he had a tender feeling 
for the good name of the school, and he 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE. 


91 


felt that it was not likely to make Eckleton 
popular with the other schools that went 
to camp if they got the reputation oi 
practical jokers. Practical jokers are 
seldom popular until they have been dead 
a hundred years or so. 

As for Walton and his colleagues, to 
complete the list of those who were 
interested in this matter of the midnight 
raid, they lay remarkably low after their 
successful foray. They imagined that 
Kennedy was spying on their every move- 
ment. In which they were quite wrong, 
for Kennedy was doing nothing of the 
kind. Camp does not allow a great deal 
of leisure for the minding of other people’s 
businesses. But this reflection did not 
occur to Walton, and he regarded Kennedy, 
whenever chance or his duties brought 
him into the neighbourhood of that worthy’s 
tent, with a suspicion which increased 
whenever the latter looked at him. 

On the night before camp broke up, a 
second incident of a sensational kind 
occurred, which, but for the fact that 


THE HEAD OF KAY'S, 


they never heard of it, would have given 
the schools a good deal to talk about. It 
happened that Kennedy was on sentry-go 
that night. The manner of sentry-go is 
thus. At seven in the evening the guard 
falls in, and patrols the fringe of the camp 
in relays till seven in the morning. A guard 
consists of a sergeant, a corporal, and ten 
men. They are on duty for two hours at 
a time, with intervals of four hours between 
each spell, in which intervals they sleep 
the sleep of tired men in the guard-tent, 
unless, as happened on the occasion 
previously described, some miscreant 
takes it upon himself to loose the ropes. 
The ground to be patrolled by the sentries 
is divided into three parts, each of which is 
entrusted to one man. 

Kennedy was one of the ten privates, and 
his first spell of sentry-go began at eleven 
o’clock. 

On this night there was no moon. It 
was as black as pitch. It is always un- 
pleasant to be on sentry-go on such a night. 
The mind wanders, in spite of all eflort to 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE, 


93 


check it, through a long series of all the 
ghastly stories one has ever read. There 
is one in particular of Conan Doyle’s about 
a mummy that came to life and chased 
people on lonely roads — but enough I 
However courageous one may be, it is 
difficult not to speculate on the possible 
horrors which may spring out on one from 
the darkness. That feeling that there is 
somebody — or something — -just behind one 
can only be experienced in all its force by 
a sentry on an inky night at camp. And 
the thought that, of all the hundreds there, 
he and two others are the only ones awake, 
puts a sort of finishing touch to the un- 
pleasantness of the situation. 

Kennedy was not a particularly imagin- 
ative youth, but he looked forward with no 
little eagerness to the time when he should 
be relieved. It would be a relief in two 
senses of the word. His beat included 
that side of the camp which faces the road 
to Aldershot. Betwe^en camp and this 
road is a ditch and a wood. After he had 
been on duty for an hour this wood began 


94 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S, 


to suggest a variety of possibilities, all 
grim. The ditch, too, was not without 
associations. It was into this that 
Private Jones had been hurled on a certain 
memorable occasion. Such a thing was 
not likely to happen again in the same 
week, and, even if it did, Kennedy flattered 
himself that he would have more to say 
in the matter than Private Jones had 
had; but nevertheless he kept a careful 
eye in that direction whenever his beat 
took him along the ditch. 

It was about half-past twelve, and he 
had entered upon the last section of his 
two hours, when Kennedy distinctly heard 
footsteps in the wood. He had heard so 
many mysterious sounds since his patrol 
began at eleven o’clock that at first he 
was inclined to attribute this to imagina- 
tion. But a crackle of dead branches and 
the sound of soft breathing convinced him 
that this was the real thing for once, and 
that, as a sentry of the Public Schools’ 
Camp on duty, it behoved him to challenge 
the unknown. 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE. 


95 


He stopped and waited, peering into 
the darkness in a futile endeavour to catch 
a glimpse of his man. But the night was 
too black for the keenest eye to penetrate 
it. A slight thud put him on the right 
track. It showed him two things; first, 
that the unknown had dropped into the 
ditch, and, secondly, that he was a camp 
man returning to his tent after an illegal 
prowl about the town at lights-out. 
Nobody save one belonging to the camp 
would have cause to cross the ditch. 

Besides, the man walked warily, as one 
not ignorant of the danger of sentries. 
The unknown had crawled out of the ditch 
now. As luck would have it he had chosen 
a spot immediately opposite to where 
Kennedy stood. Now that he was nearer 
Kennedy could see the vague outline ot 
him. 

“ Who goes there ? ” he said. 

From an instinctive regard for the other’s 
feelings he did not shout the question in 
the regulation manner. He knew how he 
would feel himself if he were out of camp 


96 


THE HEAD OF KA rS. 


at half-past twelve, and the voice of the 
sentry were to rip suddenly through the 
silence fortissimo. 

As it was, his question was quite loud 
enough to electrify the person to whom it 
was addressed. The unknown started so 
violently that he nearly leapt into the air. 
Kennedy was barely two yards from him 
when he spoke. 

The next moment this fact was brought 
home to him in a very practical manner. 
The unknown, sighting the sentry, perhaps 
more clearly against the dim whiteness of 
the tents than Kennedy could sight him 
against the dark wood, dashed in with a 
rapidity which showed that he knew some- 
thing of the art of boxing. Kennedy 
dropped his rifle and flung up his arm. 
He was altogether too late. A sudden 
blaze of light, and he was on the ground, 
sick and dizzy, a feeling he had often 
experienced before in a slighter degree, 
when sparring in the Eckleton gymnasium 
with the boxing instructor. 

The immediate effect of a flush hit m 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE. 


97 


the regions about the jaw is to make the 
victim lose for the moment all interest in 
life. Kennedy lay where he had fallen for 
nearly half a minute before he fully realised 
what it was that had happened to him. 
When he did realise the situation, he leapt 
to his feet, feeling sick and shaky, and 
staggered about in all directions in a 
manner which suggested that he fancied 
his assailant would be waiting politely until 
he had recovered. As was only natural, 
that wily person had vanished, and was 
by this time doing a quick change into 
garments of the night. Kennedy had the 
satisfaction of knowing — for what it was 
worth — that his adversary was in one of 
those tents, but to place him with any 
greater accuracy was impossible. 

So he gave up the search, found his rifle, 
and resumed his patrol. And at one o’clock 
his successor relieved him. 

On the following day camp broke up. 

Kennedy always enjoyed going home, but, 

as he travelled back to Eckleton on the 

G 


98 


THE HEAD OF KA Y*S. 


last day of these summer holidays, he could 
not help feeling that there was a great deal 
to be said for term. He felt particularly 
cheerful. He had the carriage to himself, 
and he had also plenty to read and eat. 
The train was travelling at forty miles an 
hour. And there were all the pleasures 
of a first night after the holidays to look 
forward to, when you dashed from one 
friend’s study to another’s, comparing notes, 
and explaining — five or six of you at a 
time — what a good time you had had in 
the holidays. This was always a pleasant 
ceremony at Blackburn’s, where all the 
prefects were intimate friends, and all good 
sorts, without that liberal admixture of 
weeds, worms, and outsiders which marred 
the list of prefects in most of the other 
houses. Such as Kay’s I Kennedy could 
not restrain a momentary gloating as he 
contrasted the state of affairs in Blackburn’s 
with what existed at Kay’s. Then this 
feeling was merged in one of pity for Fenn’s 
hard case. How he must hate the beginning 
of term, thought Kennedy. 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE, 


99 


All the well-kDown stations were flashing 
by now. In a few minutes he would be 
at the junction, and in another half hour 
back at Blackburn’s. He began to collect 
his baggage from the rack. 

Nobody he knew was at the junction. 
This was the late train that he had come 
down by. Most of the school had returned 
earlier in the afternoon. 

He reached Blackburn’s at eight o’clock, 
and went up to his study to unpack. This 
was always his first act on coming back 
to school. He liked to start the term 
with all his books in their shelves, and 
all his pictiires and photographs in 
their proper places on the first day. 
Some of the studies looked like lumber- 
rooms till near the end of the first 
week. 

He had filled the shelves, and was 
arranging the artistic decorations, when 
Jimmy Silver came in. Kennedy had been 
surprised that he had not met him down- 
stairs, but the matron had answered his 
inquiry with the statement that he was 


lOO 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


talking to Mr Blackburn in the other part 
of the house. 

“ When did you arrive ? ” asked Silver, 
after the conclusion of the first outbreak 
of holiday talk. 

“ I’ve only just come.” 

“ Seen Blackburn yet ? ” 

“No. I was thinking of going up after 
I had got this place done properly.” 

Jimmy Silver ran his eye over the room 

“I haven’t started mine yet,” he said. 
“ You’re such an energetic man. Now, are 
all those books in their proper places?” 

“Yes,” said Kennedy. 

“Sure?” 

“Yes.” 

“How about the pictures? Got them 
up?” 

“All but this lot here. Sha’n’t be a 
second. There you are. How’s that for 
effect?” 

“Not bad. Got all your photographs in 
their places ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Then,” said Jimmy Silver, calmly, “you’d 


A NIGHT ADVENTURE, 


lOI 


better start now to pack them all up again. 
And why, my son? Because you are no 
longer a Blackburnite. That’s what.” 

Kennedy stared. 

“I’ve just had the whole yarn from 
Blackburn,” continued Jimmy Silver. “ Our 
dear old pal, Mr Kay, wanting somebody in 
his house capable of keeping order, by way 
of a change, has gone to the Old Man and 
borrowed you. So you're head of Kay’s 
now. There’s an honour for you.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE SENSATIONS OF AN EXILE. 

shouted Kennedy. 

** He sprang to his feet as if he 
had had an electric shock. 

Jimmy Silver, having satisfied his passion 
for the dramatic by the abruptness with 
which he had exploded his mine, now felt 
himself at liberty to be sympathetic. 

“It’s quite true,” he said. “And that’s 
just how I felt when Blackburn told me. 
Blackburn’s as sick as anything. Naturally 
he doesn’t see the point of handing you 
over to Kay. But the Old Man insisted, 
so he caved in. He wanted to see you as 
soon as you arrived. You’d better go now. 
I’ll finish your packing.” 


THE SENSATIONS OF AN EXILE. 


103 


This was noble of Jimmy, for of all the 
duties of life he loathed packing most. 

‘‘Thanks awfully,” said Kennedy, “but 
don’t you bother. I’ll do it when I get 
back. But what’s it all about ? What 
made Kay want a man? Why won’t Fenn 
do ? And why me ? ” 

“Well, it’s easy to see why they chose 
you. They reflected that you’d had the 
advantage of being in Blackburn’s with me, 
and seeing how a house really should be 
run, Kay wants a head for his house. 
Off he goes to the Old Man. ‘Look here,’ 
he says, ‘ I want somebody shunted into 
my happy home, or it’ll bust up. And it’s 
no good trying to put me off with an 
inferior article, because I won’t have it. 
It must be somebody who’s been trained 
from youth up by Silver.’ ‘Then,’ says 
the Old Man, reflectively, ‘ you can’t do 
better than take Kennedy. I happen to 
know that Silver has spent years in show- 
ing him the straight and narrow path. 
You take Kennedy.’ ‘All right,’ says Kay; 
‘I always thought Kennedy a bit of an 


104 


THE HEAD OF KAY'S. 


ass myself, but if he’s studied under Silver 
he ought to know how to manage a house. 
I’ll take him. Advise our Mr Blackburn 
to that effect, and ask him to deliver the 
goods at his earliest convenience. Adoo, 
messmate, adoo ! ’ And there you are — 
that’s how it was.” 

“But what’s wrong with Fenn?” 

“My dear chap! Remember last term. 
Didn’t Fenn have a regular scrap with 
Kay, and get shoved into extra for it? 
And didn’t he wreck the concert in the 
most sportsmanlike way with that encore 
of his? Think the Old Man is going to 
take that grinning ? Not much ! Fenn 
made a ripping fifty against Kent in the 
holidays — I saw him do it — but they don’t 
count that. It’s a wonder they didn’t ask 
him to leave. Of course, I think it’s jolly 
rough on Fenn, but I don’t see that you 
can blame them. Not the Old Man, at 
any rate. He couldn’t do anything else. 
It’s all Kay’s fault that all this has 
happened, of course. I’m awfully sorry for 
you having to go into that beastly hole, 


THE SENSATIONS OF AN EXILE. 


105 

but from Kay’s point of view it’s a jolly 
sound move. You may reform the place.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“So do I — very much. I didn’t say you 
would — I said you might. I wonder if 
Kay means to give you a free hand. It 
all depends on that.” 

“Yes. If he’s going to interfere with 
me as he used to with Fenn, he’ll want to 
bring in another head to improve on me.” 

“Rather a good idea, that,” said Jimmy 
Silver, laughing, as he always did when 
any humorous possibilities suggested them- 
selves to him. “If he brings in somebody 
to improve on you, and then somebody 
else to improve on him, and then another 
chap to improve on him, he ought to have 
a decent house in half-a-dozen years or so.” 

“The worst of it is,” said Kennedy, 
“that I’ve got to go to Kay’s as a sort 
of rival to Fenn. I shouldn’t mind so 
much if it wasn’t for that. I wonder how 
he’ll take it I Do you think he knows 
about it yet? He didn’t enjoy being head, 
but that’s no reason why he shouldn’t 


io6 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S, 


cut up rough at being shoved back to 
second prefect. It’s a beastly situation.” 

‘‘Beastly,” agreed Jimmy Silver. “Look 
here,” he added, after a pause, “there’s no 
reason, you know, why this should make 
any difference. To us, I mean. What I 
mean to say is, I don’t see why we 
shouldn’t see each other just as often, and 
so on, simply because you are in another 
house, and all that sort of thing. You 
know what I mean.” 

He spoke shamefacedly, as was his habit 
whenever he was serious. He liked Kennedy 
better than anyone he knew, and hated 
to show his feelings. Anything remotely 
connected with sentiment made him un- 
comfortable. 

“Of course,” said Kennedy, awkwardly. 

“You’ll want a refuge,” said Silver, in 
his normal manner, “ now that you’re going 
to see wild life in Kay’s. Don’t forget 
that I’m always at home in my study in 
the afternoons — admission on presentation 
of a visiting-card.” 

“411 right,” said Kennedy, “I’ll re- 


THE SENSATIONS OF AN EXILE, 


107 


member. I suppose I’d better go and see 
Blackburn now.” 

Mr Blackburn was in his study. He 
was obviously disgusted and irritated 
by what had happened. Loyalty to the 
headmaster, and an appreciation of his 
position as a member of the staff led him 
to try and conceal his feelings as much as 
possible in his interview with Kennedy, 
but the latter understood as plainly as if 
his house-master had burst into a flow of 
abuse and complaint. There had always 
been an excellent understanding — indeed, 
a friendship — between Kennedy and Mr 
Blackburn, and the master was just as 
sorry to lose his second prefect as the 
latter was to go. 

“Well, Kennedy,” he said, pleasantly. “I 
hope you had a good time in the holidays. 
I suppose Silver has told you the melancholy 
news — that you are to desert us this 
term? It is a great pity. We shall all 
be very sorry to lose you. I don’t look 
forward to seeing you bowl us all out in 
the house matches next summer,” he added. 


io8 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S, 


with a smile, ‘‘though we shall expect a 
few full-pitches to leg, for the sake of old 
times.’* 

He meant well, but the picture he con- 
jured up almost made Kennedy break 
down. Nothing up to the present had 
made him realise the completeness of his 
exile so keenly as this remark of Mr 
Blackburn’s about his bowling against the 
side for which he had taken so many 
wickets in the past. It was a painful 
thought. 

“I am afraid you won’t have quite such 
a pleasant time in Mr Kay’s as you have 
had here,” resumed the house-master. “Of 
course, I know that, strictly speaking, I 
ought not to talk like this about another 
master’s house; but you can scarcely be 
unaware of the reasons that have led to 
this change. You must know that you 
are being sent to pull Mr Kay’s house 
together. This is strictly between ourselves, 
of course. I think you have a difficult 
task before you, but I don’t fancy that 
you will find it too much for you. And 


THE SENSATIONS OF AN EXILE. 


109 


mind you come here as often as you please. 
I am sure Silver and the others will he 
glad to see you. Good-bye, Kennedy. I 
think you ought to be getting across now 
to Mr Kay’s. I told him that you would 
be there before half-past nine. Good- 
night.” 

“ Good-night, sir,” said Kennedy. 

He wandered out into the house dining- 
room. Somehow, though Kay’s was only 
next door, he could not get rid of the 
feeling that he was about to start on a 
long journey, and would never see his old 
house again. And in a sense this was so. 
He would probably visit Blackburn’s to- 
morrow afternoon, but it would not be 
the same. Jimmy Silver would greet him 
like a brother, and he would brew in the 
same study in which he had always brewed, 
and sit in the same chair; but it would 
not be the same. He would be an outsider, 
a visitor, a stranger within the gates, and 
— worst of all — a Kayite. Nothing could 
alter that. 

The walls of the dining-room were covered 


no 


THE HEAD OF KA Y*S, 


with photographs of the house cricket and 
football teams for the last fifteen years. 
Looking at them, he felt more than ever 
how entirely his school life had been bound 
up in his house. From his first day at 
Eckleton he had been taught the simple 
creed of the Blackburnite, that Eckleton 
was the finest school in the three kingdoms, 
and that Blackburn’s was the finest house 
in the finest school. 

Under the gas-bracket by the door hung 
the first photograph in which he appeared, 
the cricket team of four years ago. He 
had just got the last place in front of 
Challis on the strength of a tremendous 
catch for the house second in a scratch 
game two days before the house matches 
began. It had been a glaring fluke, but 
it had impressed Denny, the head of the 
house, who happened to see it, and had won 
him his place. 

He walked round the room, looking at 
each photograph in turn. It seemed 
incredible that he had no longer any right 
to an interest in the success of Blackburn’s. 


THE SENSATIONS OF AN EXILE, 


111 


He could have endured leaving all this v>^hen 
his time at school was up, for that would 
have been the natural result of the passing 
of years. But to be transplanted abruptly 
and with a wrench from his native soil was 
too much. He went upstairs to pack, 
suffering from as severe an attack of the 
blues as any youth of eighteen had ex- 
perienced since blues were first invented. 

Jimmy Silver hovered round, while he 
packed, with expressions of sympathy and 
bitter remarks concerning Mr Kay and his 
wicked works, and, when the operation was 
concluded, helped Kennedy carry his box 
over to his new house with the air of one 
seeing a friend off to the parts beyond the 
equator. 

It was ten o’clock by the time the front 
door of Kay’s closed upon its new head. 
Kennedy went to the matron’s sanctum to 
be instructed in the geography of the 
house. The matron, a severe lady, whose 
faith in human nature had been terribly 
shaken by five years of office in Kay’s, 
showed him his dormitory and study with 


1 12 


THE HEAD OF KAY'S. 


a lack of geniality which added a deeper 
tinge of azure to Kennedy’s blues. ‘‘So 
you’ve come to live here, have you ? ” her 
manner seemed to say; “well, I pity you, 
that’s all. A nice time you're going to 
have.” 

Kennedy spent the half-hour before 
going to bed in unpacking his box for the 
second time, and arranging his books and 
photographs in the study which had been 
Wayburn’s. He had nothing to find fault 
with in the study. It was as large as the 
one he had owned at Blackburn’s, and, like 
it, looked out over the school grounds. 

At half-past ten the gas gave a flicker 
and went out, turned off at the main. 
Kennedy lit a candle and made his way 
to his dormitory. There now faced him 
the more than unpleasant task of introduc- 
ing himself to its inmates. He knew from 
experience the disconcerting way in which 
a dormitory greets an intruder. It was 
difficult to know how to begin matters. 
It would take a long time, he thought, to 
explain his presence to their satisfaction. 


THE SENSATIONS OF AN EXILE. 


”3 


Fortunately, however, the dormitory was 
not unprepared. Things get about very 
quickly in a house. The matron had told 
the housemaids ; the housemaids had 
handed it on to their ally, the hoot boy; 
the boot boy had told Wren, whom he 
happened to meet in the passage, and 
Wren had told everybody else. 

There was an uproar going on when 
Kennedy opened the door, but it died 
away as he appeared, and the dormitory 
gazed at the newcomer in absolute and 
embarrassing silence Kennedy had not 
felt so conscious of the public eye being 
upon him since he had gone out to bat 
against the M.C.C., on his first appearance 
in the ranks of the Eckleton eleven. He 
went to his bed and began to undress 
without a word, feeling rather than seeing 
the eyes that were peering at him. When 
he had completed the performance of 
disrobing, he blew out the candle and 
got into bed. The silence was broken 
by numerous coughs, of that short, sug- 
gestive type with which the public school- 

H 


1 14 THE HEAD OF KA Y^S, 

boy loves to embarrass his fellow man. 
From some unidentified corner of the room 
came a subdued giggle. Then a whispered, 
“Shut up^ you fool!” To which a low 
voice replied, “All right. I’m not doing 
anything.” 

More coughs, and another outbreak of 
giggling from a fresh quarter. 

“ Good-night,” said Kennedy, to the room 
in general. 

There was no reply. The giggler appeared 
to be rapidly approaching hysterics. 

“Shut up that row,” said Kennedy. 

The giggling ceased. 

The atmosphere was charged with 
suspicion. Kennedy fell asleep fearing that 
he was going to have trouble with his 
dormitory before many nights had passed. 


CHAPTER X. 

FURTHER EXPERIENCES OF AN EXILE. 

T)REAKFAST on the following morning 
was a repetition of the dormitory 
ordeal. Kennedy walked to his place on 
Mr Kay’s right, feeling that everyone was 
looking at him, as indeed they were. He 
understood for the first time the meaning 
of the expression, “ the cynosure of all 
eyes.” He was modest by nature, and felt 
his position a distinct trial. 

He did not quite know what to say or 
do with regard to his new house-master 
at this their first meeting in the latter’s 
territory. “ Come aboard, sir,” occurred to 
him for a moment as a happy phrase, but 
he discarded it. To make the situation 
more awkward, Mr Kay did not observe 

U-5 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


ii6 

him at first, being occupied in assailing a 
riotous fag at the other end of the table, 
that youth having succeeded, by a dexterous 
drive in the ribs, in making a friend ot 
his spill half a cup of coffee. Kenned}^ 
did not know whether to sit down without 
a word or to remain standing until Mr Kay 
had time to attend to him. He would have 
done better to have sat down; Mr Kay’s 
greeting, when it came, was not worth 
waiting for. 

“ Sit down, Kennedy,” he said, irritably — 
rebuking people on an empty stomach 
always ruffled him. ‘‘Sit down, sit down.” 

Kennedy sat down, and began to toy 
diffldently with a sausage, remembering, 
as he did so, certain diatribes of Fenn’s 
against the food at Kay’s. As he became 
more intimate with the sausage, he admitted 
to himself that Fenn had had reason. Mr 
Kay meanwhile pounded away in moody 
silence at a plate of kidneys and bacon. 
It was one of the many grievances which 
gave the Kayite material for conversation 
that Mr Kay had not the courage of his 


FURTHER EXPERIENCES OF AN EXILE. 117 


opinions in the matter of food. He insisted 
that he fed his house luxuriously, but he 
refused to brave the mysteries of its bill 
of fare himself. 

Fenn had not come down when Kennedy 
went in to breakfast. He arrived some 
ten minutes later, when Kennedy had 
vanquished the sausage, and was keeping 
body and soul together with bread and 
marmalade. 

“ I cannot have this, Fenn,” snapped 
Mr Kay; “you must come down in time.” 

Fenn took the rebuke in silence, cast 
one glance at the sausage which confronted 
him, and then pushed it away with such 
unhesitating rapidity that Mr Kay glared 
at him as if about to take up the cudgels 
for the rejected viand. Perhaps he remem- 
bered that it scarcely befitted the dignity 
of a house-master to enter upon a wrangle 
with a member of his house on the subject 
of the Verits and demerits of sausages, for 
he refrained, and Fenn was allowed to go 
on with his meal in peace. 

Kennedy’s chief anxiety had been with 


m 


THE HkAD OE KA 1 ^*^. 


regard to Fenn. True, the latter could 
hardly blame him for being made head of 
Kay’s, since he had not been consulted in 
the matter, and, if he had been, would have 
refused the post with horror ; but neverthe- 
less the situation might cause a coolness 
between them. And if Fenn, the only 
person in the house with whom he was 
at all intimate, refused to be on friendly 
terms, his stay in Kay’s would be rendered 
worse than even he had looked for. 

Fenn had not spoken to him at breakfast, 
but then there was little table talk at Kay’s. 
Perhaps the quality of the food suggested 
such gloomy reflections that nobody liked 
to put them into words. 

After the meal Fenn ran upstairs to his 
study. Kennedy followed him, and opened 
conversation in his direct way with the 
subject which he had come to discuss. ^ 

“ I say,” he said, ‘‘ I hope you aren’t sick 
about this. You know I didn’t want to 
bag your place as head of the house.” 

“ My dear chap,” said Fenn, “ don’t 
apologise. You’re welcome to it. Being 


FURTHER EXPERIENCES OF AN EXILE. 119 


head of Kay’s isn’t such a soft job that 
one is keen on sticking to it.” 

“ All the same — ” began Kennedy. 

“ I knew Kay would get at me somehow, 
of course. I’ve been wondering how all 
the holidays. 1 didn’t think of this. Still, 
I’m jolly glad it’s happened. I now retire 
into private life, and look on. I’ve taken 
years off my life sweating to make this 
house decent, and now I’m going to take 
a rest and watch you tearing your hair 
out over the job. I’m awfully sorry for 
you. I wish they’d roped in some other 
victim.” 

“ But you’re still a house prefect, I 
suppose ? ” 

“I believe so. Kay couldn’t very well 
make me a fag again.” 

“Then you’ll help manage things?” 

Fenn laughed. 

“Will I, by Jove! I’d like to see myself! 
I don’t want to do the heavy martyr 
business and that sort of thing, but I’m 
hanged if I’m going to take any more 
trouble over the house. Haven’t you any 


120 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


respect for Mr Kay’s feelings? He thinks 
I can’t keep order. Surely you don’t want 
me to go and shatter his pet beliefs ? 
Anyhow, I’m not going to do it. I’m 
going to play ‘villagers and retainers’ to 
your ‘ hero.’ If you do anything wonderful 
with the house, I shall be standing by ready 
to cheer. But you don’t catch me shoving 
myself forward. ‘ Thank ’eaven I knows me 
place,’ as the butler in the play says.” 

Kennedy kicked moodily at the leg of 
the chair which he was holding. The 
feeling that his whole world had fallen 
about his ears was increasing with every 
hour he spent in Kay’s. Last term he 
and Fenn had been as close friends as 
you could wish to see. If he had asked 
Fenn to help him in a tight place then, 
he knew he could have relied on him. 
Now his chief desire seemed to be to score 
off the human race in general, his best 
friend included. It was a dej)ressing 
beginning. 

“Do you know what the sherry said 
to the man when he was just going to 


FURTHER EXPERIENCES OF AN EXILE, 121 


drink it ? ” inquired Fenn. “ It said, ‘ Nemo 
me impune lacessit.' That’s how I feel. 
Kay went out of his way to give me 
a bad time when I was doing my best 
to run his house properly, so I don’t 
see that I’m called upon to go out of my 
way to work for him.” 

“It’s rather rough on me ” Kennedy 

began. Then a sudden indignation rushed 
through him. Why should he grovel to 
Fenn? If Fenn chose to stand out, let 
him. He was capable of running the 
house by himself. 

“I don’t care,” he said, savagely. “It 
you can’t see what a cad you’re making of 
yourself, I’m not going to try to show you. 
You can do what you jolly well please. 
I’m not dependent on you. I’ll make this 
a decent house off my own bat without 
your help. If you like looking on, you’d 
better look on. I’ll give you something 
to look at soon.” 

He went out, leaving Fenn with mixed 
feelings. He would have liked to have 
followed him, taken back what he had 


122 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S. 


said, and formed an offensive alliance 
against the black sheep of the house — and 
also, which was just as important, against 
the slack sheep, who were good for nothing, 
either at work or play. But his bitter- 
ness against the house-master prevented 
him. He was not going to take his 
removal from the leadership of Kay’s as 
if nothing had happened. 

Meanwhile, in the dayrooms and studies, 
the house had been holding indignation 
meetings, and at each it had been unani- 
mously resolved that Kay’s had been 
abominably treated, and that the deposi- 
tion of Fenn must not be tolerated. Un- 
fortunately, a house cannot do very much 
when it revolts. It can only show its 
displeasure in little things, and by an 
increase of rowdiness. This was the line 
that Kay’s took. Fenn became a popular 
hero. Fags, until he kicked them for it, 
showed a tendency to cheer him whenever 
they saw him. Nothing could paint Mr Kay 
blacker in the eyes of his house, so that 
Kennedy came in for all the odium. The 


FURTHER EXPERIENCES OF AN EXILE, 123 


same fags who had cheered Fenn hooted 
him on one occasion as he passed the 
junior dayroom. Kennedy stopped short, 
went in, and presented each inmate of the 
room with six cuts with a swagger-stick. 
This summary and Captain Kettle-like move 
had its effect. There was no more hooting. 
The fags bethought themselves of other 
ways of showing their disapproval of their 
new head. 

One genius suggested that they might 
kill two birds with one stone — snub 
Kennedy and pay a stately compliment to 
Fenn by applying to the latter for leave 
to go out of bounds instead of to the 
former. As the giving of leave “down 
town” was the prerogative of the head of 
the house, and of no other, there was a 
suggestiveness about this mode of procedure 
which appealed to the junior dayroom. 

But the star of the junior dayroom was 
not in the ascendant. Fenn might have 
quarrelled with Kennedy, and be extremely 
indignant at his removal from the headship 
of the house, but he was not the man to 


124 


THE HEAD OF KA K»5. 


forget to play the game. His policy of 
non-interference did not include underhand 
attempts to sap Kennedy’s authority. 
When Gorrick, of the Lower Fourth, the 
first of the fags to put the ingenious 
scheme into practice, came to him, still 
smarting from Kennedy’s castigation, Fenn 
promptly gave him six more cuts, worse 
than the first, and kicked him out into 
the passage. Gorrick naturally did not 
want to spoil a good thing by giving 
Fenn’s game away, so he lay low and said 
nothing, with the result that Wren and 
three others met with the same fate, only 
more so, because Fenn’s wrath increased 
with each visit. 

Kennedy, of course, heard nothing of 
this, or he might perhaps have thought 
better of Fenn. As for the jimior day- 
room, it was obliged to work off its emotion 
by jeering Jimmy Silver from the safety 
of the touchline when the head of Black- 
bum’s was refereeing in a match between 
the juniors of his house and those of Kay’s. 
Blackburn’s happened to win by four goals 


FURTHER EXPERIENCES OF AN EXILE. 125 


and eight tries, a result which the patriotic 
Kay fag attributed solely to favouritism on 
the part of the referee. 

“ I like the kids in your house,” said 
Jimmy to Kennedy, after the match, when 
telling the latter of the incident ; ‘‘ there’s 
no false idea of politeness about them. 
If they don’t like your decisions, they say 
so in a shrill treble.” 

“Little beasts,” said Kennedy. “I wish 
I knew who they were. It’s hopeless to 
try and spot them, of course.” 


CHAPTER XL 


THE SENIOR DAYROOM OPENS FIRE. 

pURIOUSLY enough, it was shortly after 
this that the junior dayroom ceased 
almost entirely to trouble the head of the 
house. Not that they turned over new 
leaves, and modelled their conduct on that 
of the hero of the Sunday-school story. 
They were still disorderly, but in a lesser 
degree; and ragging became a matter of 
private enterprise among the fags instead 
of being, as it had threatened to be, an 
organised revolt against the new head. 
When a Kay’s fag rioted now, he did so 
with the air of one endeavouring to amuse 
himself, not as if he were carrying on a 
holy war against the oppressor. 

Kennedy’s difficulties were considerably 
diminished by this change. A head of a 


THE SENIOR DAYROOM OPENS FIRE. 127 


house expects the juniors of his house to 
rag. It is what they are put into the 
world to do, and there is no difficulty in 
keeping the thing within decent limits. 
A revolution is another case altogether. 
Kennedy was grateful for the change, for 
it gave him more time to keep an eye on 
the other members of the house, but he 
had no idea what had brought it about. 
As a matter of fact, he had Billy Silver 
to thank for it. The chief organiser of the 
movement against Kennedy in the junior 
dayroom had been the red-haired Wren, 
who preached war to his fellow fags, partly 
because he loved to create a disturbance, 
and partly because Walton, who hated 
Kennedy, had told him to. Between Wren 
and Billy Silver a feud had existed since 
their first meeting. The unsatisfactory con- 
clusion to their encounter in camp had 
given another lease of life to the feud, 
and Billy had come back to Kay’s with 
the fixed intention of smiting his auburn- 
haired foe hip and thigh at the earliest 
opportunity. Wren’s attitude with respect 


128 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S, 


to Kennedy gave him a decent excuse. 
He had no particular regard for Kennedy. 
The fact that he was a friend of his 
brother’s was no recommendation. There 
existed between the two Silvers that feel- 
ing which generally exists between an 
elder and a much younger brother at the 
same school. Each thought the other a 
bit of an idiot, and though equal to 
tolerating him personally, was hanged if 
he was going to do the same by his 
friends. In Billy’s circle of acquaintances, 
Jimmy’s friends were looked upon with 
cold suspicion as officious meddlers who 
would give them lines if they found them 
out of bounds. The aristocrats with whom 
Jimmy foregathered barely recognised the 
existence of Billy’s companions. Kennedy’s 
claim to Billy’s good offices rested on the 
fact that they both objected to Wren. 

So that, when Wren lifted up his voice 
in the- junior dayroom, and exhorted the 
fags to go and make a row in the passage 
outside Kennedy’s study, and — from a safe 
distance, and having previously ensured a 


THE SENIOR DA YROOM OPENS FIRE, 129 


means of rapid escape — to fling boots at 
his door, Billy damped the popular enthu- 
siasm which had been excited by the pro- 
posal by kicking Wren with some violence, 
and begging him not to be an ass. Where- 
upon they resumed their battle at the 
point at which it had been interrupted at 
camp. And when, some five minutes later, 
Billy, from his seat on his adversary’s 
chest, offered to go through the same 
performance with anybody else who wished, 
the junior day room came to the conclusion 
that his feelings with regard to the new 
head of the house, however foolish and 
unpatriotic, had better be respected. And 
the revolution of the fags had fizzled out 
from that moment. 

In the senior dayroom, however, the flag 
of battle was still unfurled. It was so 
obvious that Kennedy had been put into 
the house as a reformer, and the seniors 
of Kay’s had such an objection to being 
reformed, that trouble was only to be 
expected. It was the custom in most 

houses for the head of the house, by right 

I 


130 


THE HEAD OF KA rS. 


of that position, to be also captain of foot- 
ball. The senior dayroom was aggrieved at 
Kennedy’s taking this post from Fenn. Fenn 
was in his second year in the school fifteen, 
and he was the three-quarter who scored 
most frequently for Eckleton, whereas 
Kennedy, though practically a certainty 
for one of the six vacant places in the 
school scrum, was at present entitled to 
wear only a second fifteen cap. The claims 
of Fenn to be captain of Kay’s football were 
strong. Kennedy had begged him to con- 
tinue in that position more than once. 
Fenn’s persistent refusal had helped to 
increase the coolness between them, and 
it had also made things more difficult for 
Kennedy in the house. 

It was on the Monday of the third week 
of term that Kennedy, at Jimmy Silver’s 
request, arranged a friendly ” between 
Kay’s and Blackburn’s. There could be 
no doubt as to which was the better team 
(for Blackburn’s had been runners up for 
the Cup the season before), but the better 
one’s opponents the better the practice. 


THE SENIOR DA YROOM OPENS FIRE. 131 


Kennedy wrote out the list and fixed it 
on the notice board. The match was to 
be played on the following afternoon. 

A football team must generally be made 
up of the biggest men at the captains 
disposal, so it happened that Walton, Perry, 
Callingham, and the other leaders of dis- 
sension in Kay’s, all figured on the list. 
The consequence was that the list came 
in for a good deal of comment in the senior 
dayroom. There were games every Saturday 
and Wednesday, and it annoyed Walton and 
friends that they should have to turn out 
on an afternoon that was not a half holiday. 
It was trouble enough playing football on 
the days when it was compulsory. As for 
patriotism, no member of the house even 
pretended to care whether Kay’s put a good 
team into the field or not. The senior day- 
room sat talking over the matter till lights- 
out. When Kennedy came down next 
morning, he found his list scribbled over 
with blue pencil, while across it in bold 
letters ran the single word. 

ROT. 


32 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


He went to his study, wrote out a fresh 
copy, and pinned it up in place of the 
old one. He had been early in coming 
down that morning, and the majority of 
the Kayites had not seen the defaced notice. 
The match was fixed for half-past four. At 
four a thin rain was falling. The weather 
had been bad for some days, but on this 
particular afternoon it reached the limit. 
In addition to being wet, it was also cold, 
and Kennedy, as he walked over to the 
grounds, felt that he would be glad when 
the game was over. He hoped that Black- 
burn s would be punctual, and congratulated 
himself on his foresight in securing Mr 
Blackburn as referee. Some of the staff, 
when they consented to hold the whistle 
in a scratch game, invariably kept the teams 
waiting on the field for half an hour before 
turning up. Mr Blackburn, on the other 
hand, was always punctual. He came out 
of his house just as Kennedy turned in at 
the school gates. 

“Well, Kennedy,’’ he said from the depths 
of his ulster, the collar of which he had 


THE SENIOR DA YkOOM OPENS EIRE, i jj 


turned up over his ears with a prudence 
which Kennedy, having come out with only 
a blazer on over his football clothes, dis- 
tinctly envied, ‘‘I hope your men are not 
going to be late. I don’t think I ever saw 
a worse day for football. How long were 
you thinking of playing ? Two twenty -fives 
would be enough for a day like this, I 
think.’’ 

Kennedy consulted with Jimmy Silver, 
who came up at this moment, and they 
agreed without argument that twenty-five 
minutes each way would be the very 
thing. 

“Where are your men?” asked Jimmy. 
“ I’ve got all our chaps out here, bar Challis, 
who’ll be out in a few minutes. I left him 
almost changed.” 

Challis appeared a little later, and joined 
the rest of Blackburn’s team, who were 
putting in the time and trying to keep 
warm by running and passing and dropping 
desultory goals. But, with the exception 
ot Fenn, who stood brooding by himself 
in the centre of the field, wrapped to the 


THE HEAD OE KAY^S. 


eyes in a huge overcoat, and two other 
house prefects of Kay’s, who strolled up 
and down looking as if they wished they 
were in their studies, there was no sign 
of the missing team 

can’t make it out,” said Kennedy. 

“ You’re sure you put up the right 
time ? ” asked Jimmy Silver. 

“Yes, quite.” 

It certainly could not be said that Kay’s 
had had any room for doubt as to the time 
of the match, for it had appeared in large 
figures on both notices. 

A quarter to five sounded from the college 
clock. 

“We must begin soon,” said Mr Black- 
bum, “or there will not be light enough 
even for two twenty-fives.” 

Kennedy felt wretched. Apart from the 
fact that he was frozen to an icicle and 
drenched by the rain, he felt responsible 
for his team, and he could see that Black- 
burn’s men were growing irritated at the 
delay, though they did their best to conceal 
it 


THE SENIOR DA YROOM OPENS FIRE, 135 


Can’t we lend them some subs ? ” 
suggested Challis, hopefully. 

All right — if you can raise eleven subs,” 
said Silver. “They’ve only got four men 
on the field at present.” 

Challis subsided. 

“ Look here,” said Kennedy, “ I’m going 
back to the house to see what’s up. I’ll 
be back as soon as I can. They must have 
mistaken the time or something after all.” 

He rushed hack to the house, and flung 
open the door of the senior dayroom. It 
was empty. 

Kennedy had expected to find his missing 
men huddled in a semicircle round the fire, 
waiting for some one to come and tell them 
that Blackburn’s had taken the field, and 
that they could come out now without any 
fear of having to wait in the rain for the 
match to begin. This, he thought, would 
have been the unselfish policy of Kay’s 
senior dayroom. 

But to find nobody was extraordinary. 

The thought occurred to him that the 
team might be changing in their dormitories. 


136 


THE HEAD OF KA K' 5 . 


He ran upstairs. But all the dormitories 
were locked, as he might have known they 
would have been. Coming downstairs again 
he met his fag, Spencer. 

Spencer replied to his inquiry that he 
had only just come in. He did not know 
where the team had got to. No, he had 
not seen any of them. 

“ Oh, yes, though,” he added, as an after- 
thought, “I met Walton just now. He 
looked as if he was going down town.” 

Walton had once licked Spencer, and 
that vindictive youth thought that this 
might be a chance of getting back at him. 

“Oh,” said Kennedy, quietly, “Walton? 
Did you ? Thanks.” 

Spencer was disappointed at his lack of 
excitement. Ilis news did not seem to 
interest him. 

Kennedy went back to the football field 
to inform Jimmy Silver of the result of his 
investigations. 


CHAPTER XII. 

KENNEDY INTERVIEWS WALTON. 

T’M very sorry,” he said, when he rejoined 
the shivering group, but I’m afraid we 
shall have to call this match off. There 
seems to have been a mistake. None of 
my team are anywhere about. I’m awfully 
sorry, sir,” he added, to Mr Blackburn, 
“to have given you all this trouble for 
nothing.” 

“Not at all, Kennedy. We must try 
another day.” 

Mr Blackburn suspected that something 
untoward had happened in Kay’s to cause 
this sudden defection of the first fifteen of 
the house. He knew that Kennedy was 
having a hard time in his new position, and 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


1 38 


he did not wish to add to his discomfort 
by calling for an explanation before an 
audience. It could not be pleasant for 
Kennedy to feel that his enemies had 
scored off him. It was best to preserve a 
discreet silence with regard to the whole 
affair, and leava him to settle it for 
himself. 

Jimmy Silver was more curious. He took 
Kennedy off to tea in his study, sat him 
down in the best chair in front of the fire, 
and proceeded to urge him to confess 
everything. 

“Now, then, what’s it all about?” he 
asked, briskly, spearing a muffin on the 
fork and beginning to toast. 

“It’s no good asking me,” said Kennedy. 
“I suppose it’s a put-up job to make me 
look a fool. I ought to have known 
something of this kind would happen 
when I saw what they did to my first 
notice.” 

“ What was that ? ” 

Kennedy explained. 

“This is getting thrilling,” said Jimmy. 


KENNED Y INTER VIE WS WALTON. 1 39 


^‘Just pass that plate. Thanks. What 
are you going to do about it?” 

don’t know. What would you do?” 

‘‘My dear chap, I’d first find out who 
was at the bottom of it — there’s bound to 
be one man who started the whole thing 
— and I’d make it my aim in life to give 
him the warmest ten minutes he’d ever 
had.” 

“That sounds all right. But how would 
you set about it ? ” 

“Why, touch him up, of course. What 
else would you do ? Before the whole house, 
too.” 

“ Supposing he wouldn’t be touched up ? ” 

“Wouldn’t he I He’d have to.” 

“You don’t know Kay’s, Jimmy. You’re 
thinking what you’d do if this had happened 
in Blackburn’s. The two things aren’t the 
same. Here the man would probably take 
it like a lamb. The feeling of the house 
would be against him. He’d find nobody 
to back him up. That’s because Blackburn’s 
is a decent house instead of being a sink 
like Kay’s. If I tried the touching-up 


140 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S. 


before the whole house game with our 
chaps, the man would probably reply by 
going for me, assisted by the whole strength 
of the company.” 

“Well, dash it all then, all you’ve got 
to do is to call a prefects’ meeting, and 
he’ll get ten times worse beans from them 
than he’d have got from you. It’s simple.” 

Kennedy stared into the fire pensively. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “I bar that 
prefects’ meeting business. It always seems 
rather feeble to me, lugging in a lot of 
chaps to help settle some one you can’t 
manage yourself I want to carry this job 
through on my own.” 

“ Then you’d better scrap with the man.” 

“I think I will.” 

Silver stared. ^ 

“ Don’t be an ass,” he said. “ I was only 
rotting. You can’t go fighting all over the 
shop as if you were a fag. You’d lose your 
prefect’s cap if it came out.” 

“ I could wear my topper,” said Kennedy, 
with a grin. “You see,” he added, “I’ve 
not much choice. I must do something. 


KENNEDY INTERVIEWS WALTON 141 


If I took no notice of this business there’d 
be no holding the house. I should be ragged 
to death. It’s no good talking about it. 
Personally, I should prefer touching the 
chap up to fighting him, and I shall try 
it on. But he’s not likely to meet me half 
way. And if he doesn’t there’ll be an 
interesting turn-up, and you shall hold the 
watch. I’ll send a kid round to fetch you 
when things look like starting. I must go 
now to interview my missing men. So long. 
Mind you slip round directly I send for 
you.” 

“Wait a second. Don’t be in such a 
beastly hurry. Who’s the chap you’re 
going to fight ? ” 

“I don’t know yet. Walton, I should 
think. But I don’t know.” 

“Walton! By Jove, it’ll be worth seeing, 
anyhow, if we are both sacked for it when 
the Old Man finds out.” 

Kennedy returned to his study and 
changed his football boots for a pair of 
gymnasium shoes. For the job he had in 
hand it was necessary that he should move 


142 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


quickly, and football boots are a nuisance 
on a board floor. When he had changed, 
he called Spencer. 

“Go down to the senior dayroom,” he 
said, “and tell MacPherson I want to see 
him.” 

MacPherson was a long, weak-looking 
youth. He had been put down to play 
for the house that day, and had not 
appeared. 

“MacPherson!” said the fag, in a tone 
of astonishment, “not Walton?” 

He had been looking forward to the 
meeting between Kennedy and his ancient 
foe, and to have a miserable being like 
MacPherson offered as a substitute disgusted 
him. 

“ If you have no objection,” said Kennedy, 
politely, “I may want you to fetch Walton 
later on.” 

Spencer vanished, hopeful once more. 

“Come in, MacPherson,” said Kennedy, 
on the arrival of the long one; “shut the 
door.” 

MacPherson did so, feeling as if he were 


KENNED Y INTER VIE WAL TON. 143 


paying a visit to the dentist. As long as 
there had been others with him in this 
affair he had looked on it as a splendid 
idea. But to be singled out like this was 
quite a different thing. 

‘‘Now,” said Kennedy, “Why weren’t you 
on the field this afternoon ? ” 

“I — er — I was kept in.” 

“ How long ? ” 

“Oh — er— till about five.” 

“What do you call about five?” 

“About twenty-five to,” he replied, 
despondently. 

“Now look here,” said Kennedy, briskly, 
“I’m just going to explain to you exactly 
how I stand in this business, so you’d better 
attend. I didn’t ask to be made head of 
this sewage dep6t. If I could have had 
any choice, I wouldn’t have touched a 
Kayite with a barge-pole. But since I am 
head, I’m going to be it, and the sooner 
you and your senior dayroom crew realise 
it the better. This sort of thing isn’t going 
on. I want to know now who it was put 
up this job. You wouldn’t have the cheek 


)44 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


to start a thing like this yourself. Who 
was it ? ” 

‘‘Well— er ” 

“You’d better say, and be quick, too. I 
can’t wait. Whoever it was, I sha’n’t tell 
him you told me. And I sha’n’t tell Kay. 
So now you can go ahead. Who was it ? ” 

“ Well — er — Walton.” 

“I thought so. Now you can get out. 
If you see Spencer, send him here.” 

Spencer, curiously enough, was just out- 
side the door. So close to it, indeed, that 
he almost tumbled in when MacPherson 
opened it. 

“Go and fetch Walton,” said Kennedy. 

Spencer dashed off delightedly, and in a 
couple of minutes Walton appeared. He 
walked in with an air of subdued defiance, 
and slammed the door. 

“Don’t bang the door like that,” said 
Kennedy. “ Why didn’t you turn out 
to-day ? ” 

“I was kept in.” 

“ Couldn’t you get out in time to play ? ” 
“No.” 


KENNEDY INTERVIEWS WALTON. 145 


“When did you get out?” 

“Six” 

“ Not before ? ” 

“I said six.” 

“Then how did you manage to go down 
town — without leave, by the way, but 
that’s a detail — at half-past five ? ” 

“All right,” said Walton; “better call 
me a liar.” 

“Good suggestion,” said Kennedy, cheer- 
fully; “I will.” 

“It’s all very well,” said Walton. “You 
know jolly well you can say anything you 
like. I can’t do anything to you. You’d 
have me up before the prefects.” 

“Not a bit of it. This is a private 
affair between ourselves. I’m not going to 
drag the prefects into it. You seem to 
want to make this house worse than it is. 
I want to make it more or less decent. 
We can’t both have what we want.” 

There was a pause. 

“When would it be convenient for you 
to be touched up before the whole house ? ” 
inquired Kennedy, pleasantly. 

K 


146 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


“ What?” 

“Well, you see, it seems the only thing, 
I must take it out of some one for this 
house-match business, and you started it. 
Will to-night suit you, after supper ? ” 

“You’ll get it hot if you try to touch 
me.” 

“We’ll see.” 

“ You’d funk taking me on in a scrap,” 
said Walton. 

“Would I? As a matter of fact, a 
scrap would suit me just as well. Better. 
Are you ready now? 

“Quite, thanks,” sneered Walton. “I’ve 
knocked you out before, and I’ll do it 
again.” 

“Oh, then it was you that night at 
camp ? I thought so. I spotted your style. 
Hitting a chap when he wasn’t ready, you 
know, and so on. Now, if you’ll wait a 
minute, I’ll send across to Blackburn’s for 
Silver. I told him I should probably want 
him as a time-keeper to-night.” 

“What do you want with Silver. Why 
won’t Perry do?” 


KENNEDY INTERVIEWS WALTON, 147 


“Thanks, I’m afraid Perry’s time-keeping 
wouldn’t be impartial enough. Silver, I 
think, if you don’t mind.” 

Spencer was summoned once more, and 
despatched to Blackburn’s. He returned 
with Jimmy. 

“ Come in, Jimmy,” said Kennedy. “ Run 
away, Spencer. Walton and I are just 
going to settle a point of order which has 
arisen, Jimmy. Will you hold the watch? 
We ought just to have time before 
tea.” 

“Where?” asked Silver. 

“My dormitory would be the best place. 
We can move the beds. I’ll go and get 
the keys.” 

Kennedy’s dormitory was the largest in 
the house. After the beds had been 
moved back, there was a space in the 
middle of fifteen feet one way, and twelve 
the other — not a large ring, but large 
enough for two fighters who meant business. 

Walton took o3' his coat, waistcoat, and 
shirt. Kennedy, who was still in football 
clothes, removed his blazer. 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


I4« 

“ Half a second/' said Jimmy Silver — 
‘‘ what length rounds ? " 

“ Two minutes ? ” said Kennedy to 
Walton. 

“All right/’ growled Walton. 

“Two minutes, then, and half a minute 
in between.” 

“Are you both ready?” asked Jimmy, 
from his seat on the chest of drawers. 

Kennedy and Walton advanced into the 
middle of the impromptu ring. 

There was dead silence for a moment. 

“ Time 1 ” said Jimmy Silver. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE FIGHT IN THE DORMITOST. 

CTATING it broadly, fighters may be 
said to be divided into two classes — 
those who are content to take two blows 
if they can give three in return, and those 
who prefer to receive as little punishment 
as possible, even at the expense of scor- 
ing fewer points themselves. Kennedy’s 
position, when Jimmy Silver called time, 
was peculiar. On all the other occasions 
on which he had fought — with the gloves 
on in the annual competition, and at the 
assault-at-arms — he had gone in for the 
policy of taking all that the other man 
liked to give him, and giving rather more 
in exchange. Now, however, he was obliged 
to alter his whole style. For a variety of 

14 » 


THE HEAD OF KAY*S. 


*50 

reasons it was necessary that he should 
come out of this fight with as few marks 
as possible. To begin with, he represented, 
in a sense, the Majesty of the Law. He 
was tackling Walton more by way of an 
object-lesson to the Kayite mutineers than 
for his own personal satisfaction. The 
object-lesson would lose in impressiveness 
if he were compelled to go about for a 
week or so with a pair of black eyes, or 
other adornments of a similar kind. Again 
— and this was even more important — ^if 
he was badly marked the affair must come 
to the knowledge of the headmaster. Being 
a prefect, and in the sixth form, he came 
into contact with the Head every day, and 
the disclosure of the fact that he had been 
engaged in a pitched battle with a member 
of his house, who was, in addition to other 
disadvantages, very low down in the school, 
would be^ likely to lead to unpleasantness. 
A school prefect of Eckleton was supposed 
to be hedged about with so much dignity 
that he could quell turbulent inferiors with 
a glance. The idea of one of the august 


THE FIGHT IN THE DORMITORY. 151 


body lowering himself to the extent of 
emphasising his authority with the bare 
knuckle would scandalise the powers. 

So Kennedy, rising at the call of time 
from the bed on which he sat, came up 
to the scratch warily. 

Walton, on the other hand, having every- 
thing to gain and nothing to lose, and 
happy in the knowledge that no amount 
of bruises could do him any harm, except 
physically, came on with the evident 
intention of making a hurricane fight of 
it. He had very little science as a boxer. 
Heavy two-handed slogging was his forte, 
and, as the majority of his opponents up 
to the present had not had sufficient skill 
to discount his strength, he had found this 
a very successful line of action. Kennedy 
and he had never had the gloves on 
together. In the competition of the 
previous year both had entered in their 
respective classes, Kennedy as a light- 
weight, Walton in the middles, and both, 
after reaching the semi-final, had been 
defeated by the narrowest of margins by 


152 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S. 


men who had since left the school. That 
had been in the previous Easter term, and, 
while Walton had remained much the same 
as regards weight and strength, Kennedy, 
owing to a term of hard bowling and a 
summer holiday spent in the open, had 
filled out. They were now practically on 
an equality, as far as weight was con- 
cerned. As for condition, that was all in 
favour of Kennedy. He played football 
in his spare time. Walton, on the days 
when football was not compulsory, smoked 
cigarettes. 

Neither of the pair showed any desire to 
open the fight by shaking hands. This 
was not a friendly spar. It was business. 
The first move was made by Walton, who 
feinted with his right and dashed in to 
fight at close quarters. It was not a con- 
vincing feint. At any rate, it did not 
deceive Kennedy. He countered with his 
left, and swung his right at the body with 
all the force he could put into the hit. 
Walton went back a pace, sparred for a 
moment, then came in again, hitting heavily. 


THE FIGHT IN THE DORMITORY. 153 


Kennedy’s counter missed its mark this 
time. He just stopped a round sweep of 
Walton’s right, ducked to avoid a similar 
effort of his left, and they came together 
in a clinch. 

In a properly regulated glove-fight, the 
referee, on observing the principals clinch, 
says, ‘‘Break away there, break away,” in 
a sad, reproachful voice, and the fighters 
separate without demur, being very much 
alive to the fact that, as far as that 
contest is concerned, their destinies are 
in his hands, and that any bad behaviour 
in the ring will lose them the victory. 
But in an impromptu turn-up like this one, 
the combatants show a tendency to ignore 
the rules so carefully mapped out by the 
present Marquess of Queensberry’s grand- 
father, and revert to the conditions of 
warfare under which Cribb and Spring won 
their battles. Kennedy and Walton, having 
clinched, proceeded to wrestle up and down 
the room, while Jimmy Silver looked on 
from his eminence in pained surprise at 
the sight of two men, who knew the 


154 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S. 


rules of the ring, so far forgetting them- 
selves. 

To do Kennedy justice, it was not his 
fault. He was only acting in self-defence. 
Walton had started the hugging. Also, he 
had got the under-grip, which, when neither 
man knows a great deal of the science of 
wrestling, generally means victory. Kennedy 
was quite sure that he could not throw 
his antagonist, but he hung on in the 
knowledge that the round must be over 
shortly, when Walton would have to loose 
him. 

“Time,” said Jimmy Silver. 

Kennedy instantly relaxed his grip, and 
in that instant Walton swung him off his 
feet, and they came down together with a 
crash that shook the room. Kennedy was 
underneath, and, as he fell, his head came 
into violent contact with the iron support 
of a bed. 

Jimmy Silver sprang down from his seat. 

“What are you playing at, Walton? 
Didn’t you hear me call time? It was a 
beastly foul — the worst I ever saw. You 


The fight in the dormitory. 


*55 


ought to be sacked for a thing like that. 
Look here, Kennedy, you needn’t go on. 
I disqualify Walton for fouling.” 

The usually genial James stammered with 
righteous indignation. 

Kennedy sat down on a bed, dizzily. 

“No,” he said; “I’m going on.” 

“But he fouled you.” 

“I don’t care. I’ll look after myself. 
Is it time yet ? ” 

“Ten seconds more, if you really are 
going on.” 

He climbed back on to the chest of 
drawers. 

“Time.” 

Kennedy came up feeling weak and sick. 
The force with which he had hit his head 
on the iron had left him dazed. 

Walton rushed in as before. He had no 
chivalrous desire to spare his man by way 
of compensation for fouling him. What 
monopolised his attention was the evident 
fact that Kennedy was in a bad way, and 
that a little strenuous in-fighting might 
end the affair in the desired manner. 


THE HEAD OE KA V^S, 


iS6 

It was at this point that Kennedy had 
reason to congratulate himself on donning 
gymnasium shoes. They gave him that 
extra touch of lightness which enabled him 
to dodge blows which he was too weak to 
parry. Everything was vague and unreal 
to him. He seemed to be looking on at a 
fight between Walton and some stranger. 

Then the effect of his fall began to wear 
oft. He could feel himself growing stronger. 
Little by little his head cleared, and he 
began once more to take a personal interest 
in the battle. It is astonishing what a 
power a boxer, who has learnt the art 
carefully, has of automatic fighting. The 
expert gentleman who fights under the 
pseudonym of “Kid M‘Coy” once informed 
the present writer that in one of his fights 
he was knocked down by such a severe 
hit that he remembered nothing further, 
and it was only on reading the paper next 
morning that he found, to his surprise, 
that he had fought four more rounds after 
the blow, and won the battle handsomely 
on points. Much the same thing happened 


THE FIGHT IN THE DORMITORY, 


^57 


to Kennedy. For the greater part of the 
second round he fought without knowing 
it. When Jimmy Silver called time he was 
in as good case as ever, and the only 
effects of the blow on his head were a vast 
lump underneath the hair, and a settled 
determination to win or perish. In a few 
minutes the bell would ring for tea, and 
all his efforts would end in nothing. It 
was no good fighting a draw with Walton 
if he meant to impress the house. He 
knew exactly what Rumour, assisted by 
Walton, would make of the affair in that 
case. “Have you heard the latest?’* A 
would ask of B. “Why, Kennedy tried 
to touch Walton up for not playing footer, 
and Walton went for him and would have 
given him frightful beans, only they had 
to go down to tea.” There must be none 
of that sort of thing. 

“Time,” said Jimmy Silver, breaking in 
on his meditations. 

It was probably the suddenness and un- 
expectedness of it that took Walton aback. 
Up till now his antagonist had been tight- 


THE HEAD OF KAY'S, 


rs8 


ing strictly on the defensive, and was 
obviously desirous of escaping punishment 
as far as might be possible. And then 
the fall at the end of round one had 
shaken him up, so that he could hardly 
fight at all at their second meeting. 
Walton naturally expected that it would 
be left to him to do the leading in round 
three. Instead of this, however, Kennedy 
opened the round with such a lightning 
attack that Walton was all abroad in a 
moment. In his most scientific mood he 
never had the remotest notion of how to 
guard. He was aggressive and nothing 
else. Attacked by a quick hitter, he was 
useless. Three times Kennedy got through 
his guard with his left. The third hit 
staggered him. Before he could recover, 
Kennedy had got his right in, and down 
went Walton in a heap. 

He was up again as soon as he touched 
the boards, and down again almost as soon 
as he was up. Kennedy was always a 
straight hitter, and now a combination of 
good cause and bad temper — for the thought 


THE FIGHT IN THE DORMITORY. 


*59 


of the foul in the first round had stirred 
what was normally a more or less placid 
nature into extreme viciousness — lent a 
vigour to his left arm to which he had 
hitherto been a stranger. He did not use 
his right again. It was not needed. 

Twice more Walton went down. He was 
still down when Jimmy Silver called time. 
When the half-minute interval between the 
rounds was over, he stated that he was 
not going on. 

Kennedy looked across at him as he sat 
on a bed dabbing tenderly at his face 
with a handkerchief, and was satisfied with 
the success of his object-lesson. From his 
own face the most observant of headmasters 
could have detected no evidence that he 
had been engaged in a vulgar fight. 
Walton, on the other hand, looked as if 
he had been engaged in several — all violent. 
Kennedy went off to his study to change, 
feeling that he had advanced a long step 
on the thorny path that led to the Perfect 
House. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

FENN RECEIVES A LETTER. 

T)UT the step was not such a very long 
one after all. What it amounted to 
was simply this, that open rebellion ceased 
in Kay’s. When Kennedy put up the list 
on the notice-board for the third time, 
which he did on the morning following his 
encounter with Walton, and wrote on it 
that the match with Blackburn’s would 
take place that afternoon, his team turned 
out like lambs, and were duly defeated by 
thirty-one points. He had to play a 

substitute for Walton, who was rather too 
battered to be of any real use in the 
scrum; but, with that exception, the team 
that entered the field was the same that 
should have entered it the day before 


FENN RECEIVES A LETTER. i6i 

But his labours in the Augean stables of 
Kay’s were by no means over. Practically 
they had only begun. The state of the 
house now was exactly what it had been 
under Fenn. When Kennedy had taken 
over the reins, Kay’s had become on the 
instant twice as bad as it had been before. 
By his summary treatment of the revolu- 
tion, he had, so to speak, wiped off this 
deficit. What he had to do now was to 
begin to improve things. Kay’s was now 
in its normal state — slack, rowdy in an 
underhand way, and utterly useless to the 
school. It was “up to” Kennedy, as they 
say in America, to start in and make 
something presentable and useful out of 
these unpromising materials. 

What annoyed him more than anything 
else was the knowledge that if only Fenn 
chose to do the square thing and help him 
in his work, the combination would be irre- 
sistible. It was impossible to make any lee- 
way to speak of by himself If Fenn would 
only forget his grievances and join forces 

with him, they could electrify the house. 

X. 


i 62 


THE HEAD OF KAY'S, 


Fenn, however, showed no inclination to 
do anything of the kind. He and Kennedy 
never spoke to one another now except 
when it was absolutely unavoidable, and 
then they behaved with that painful polite- 
ness in which the public schoolman always 
wraps himself as in a garment when deal- 
ing with a friend with whom he has 
quarrelled. 

On the Walton episode Fenn had made 
no comment, though it is probable that 
he thought a good deal. 

It was while matters were in this strained 
condition that, Fenn received a letter from 
his elder brother. This brother had been 
at Eckleton in his time — School House — 
and had left five years before to go to 
Cambridge. Cambridge had not taught 
him a great deal, possibly because he did 
not meet the well-meant efforts of his 
tutor half-way. The net result of his 
three years at King’s was — imprimis,, a 
cricket blue, including a rather lucky 
eighty-three at Lord’s; secondly, a very 
poor degree; thirdly and lastly, a taste 


FENN RECEIVES A LETTER. 


163 


for literature and the drama — he had been 
a prominent member of the Footlights 
Club. When he came down he looked 
about him for some occupation which 
should combine in happy proportions a 
small amount of work and a large amount 
of salary, and, finding none, drifted into 
journalism, at which calling he had been 
doing very fairly ever since. 

“ Dear Bob,” the letter began. Fenn’s 
names were Robert Mowbray, the second 
of which he had spent much of his time 
in concealing. “Just a line.” 

The elder Fenn always began his letters 
with these words, whether they ran to one 
sheet or eight. In the present case the 
screed was not particularly long. 

“Do you remember my reading you a 
hit of an opera I was writing? Well, I 
finished it, and, after going the round of 
most of the managers, who chucked it 
with wonderful unanimity, it found an 
admirer in Higgs, the man who took the 
part of the duke in The Outsider. Luckily, 
he happened to be thinking of starting on 


i64 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


his own in opera instead of farce, and there’s 
a part in mine which fits him like a glove. 
So he’s going to bring it out at the Imperial 
in the spring, and by way of testing the 
piece — trying it on the dog, as it were — 
he means to tour with it. Now, here’s the 
point of this letter. We start at Eckleton 
next Wednesday. We shall only be there 
one night, for we go on to Southampton 
on Thursday. I suppose you couldn’t come 
and see it? I remember Peter Brown, who 
got the last place in the team the year I 
got my cricket colours, cutting out of his 
house (Kay’s, by the way) and going down 
town to see a piece at the theatre. I’m 
bound to admit he got sacked for it, but 
still, it shows that it can be done. All the 
same, I shouldn’t try it on if I were you. 
You’ll be able to read all about the ‘ striking 
success’ and ‘unrestrained enthusiasm’ in 
the EcMeton Mirror on Thursday. Mind 
you buy a copy.” 

The rest of the letter was on other 
subjects. It took Fenn less than a minute 
to decide to patronise that opening per- 


FENN RECEIVES A LETTER. 


165 


formance. He was never in the habit of 
paying very much attention to risks when 
he wished to do anything, and now he 
felt as if he cared even less than usual 
what might be the outcome of the 
adventure. Since he had ceased to be on 
speaking terms with Kennedy, he had 
found life decidedly dull. Kennedy had 
been his only intimate friend. He had 
plenty of acquaintances, as a first eleven 
and first fifteen man usually has, but none 
of them were very entertaining. Conse- 
quently he welcomed the idea of a break 
in the monotony of affairs. The only thing 
that had broken it up to the present had 
been a burglary at the school house. Some 
enterprising marauder had broken in a 
week before and gone off with a few 
articles of value from the headmaster’s 
drawing-room. But the members of the 
school house had talked about this episode 
to such an extent that the rest of the school 
had dropped off the subject, exhausted, and 
declined to discuss it further. And things 
had become monotonous once more. 


i66 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


Having decided to go, Fenn began to 
consider how he should do it. And here 
circumstances favoured him. It happened 
that on the evening on which his brother’s 
play was to be produced the headmaster 
was giving his once-a-term dinner to the 
house - prefects. This simplified matters 
wonderfully. The only time when his 
absence from the house was at all likely 
to be discovered would be at prayers, which 
took place at half-past nine. The prefects’ 
dinner solved this difficulty for him. Kay 
would not expect him to be at prayers, 
thinking he was over at the Head’s, while 
the Head, if he noticed his absence at all, 
would imagine that he was staying away 
from the dinner owing to a headache or 
some other malady. It seemed tempting 
Providence not to take advantage of such 
an excellent piece of luck. For the rest, 
detection . was practically impossible. 
Kennedy’s advent to the house had ousted 
Fenn from the dormitory in which he had 
slept hitherto, and, there being no bed 
available in any of the other dormitories, 


FENN RECEIVES A LETTER, 


167 


he had been put into the spare room 
usually reserved for invalids whose 
invalidism was not of a sufficiently 
infectious kind to demand their removal 
to the infirmary. As for getting back 
into the house, he would leave the window 
of his study unfastened. He could easily 
climb on to the window-ledge, and so to 
bed without let or hindrance. 

The distance from Kay’s to the town 
was a mile and a half. If he started at 
the hour when he should have been 
starting for the school house, he would 
arrive just in time to see the curtain 
go up. 

Having settled these facts definitely 
in his mind, he got his books together 
and went over to school. 


CHAPTER XV. 

DOWN TOWN. 

l^ENN arrived at the theatre a quarter 
of an hour before the curtain rose. 
Going down a gloomy alley of the High 
Street, he found himself at the stage door, 
where he made inquiries of a depressed- 
looking man with a bad cold in the head 
as to the whereabouts of his brother. It 
seemed that he was with Mr Higgs. If he 
would wait, said the door-keeper, his name 
should be sent up. Fenn waited, while 
the door-keeper made polite conversation 
by describing his symptoms to him in a 
hoarse growl. Presently the minion who 
had been despatched to the upper regions 
with Fenn’s message returned. Would he 
go upstairs, third door on the left. Fenn 
followed the instructions, and found him- 


DOWN TOWN 


169 


self in a small room, a third of which was 
filled by a huge iron-bound chest, another 
third by a very stout man and a dressing- 
table, while the rest of the space was 
comparatively empty, being occupied by 
a wooden chair with three legs. On this 
seat his brother was trying to balance 
himself, giving what part of his attention 
was not required for this feat to listening 
to some story the fat man was telling him. 
Fenn had heard his deep voice booming as 
he went up the passage. 

His brother did the honours. 

“ Glad to see you, glad to see you,” 
said Mr Higgs, for the fat man was none 
other than that celebrity. “Take a seat.” 

Fenn sat down on the chest and 
promptly tore his trousers on a jagged 
piece of iron. 

“ These provincial dressing-rooms ! ” said 
Mr Higgs, by way of comment. “ No room ! 
Never any room I No chairs! Nothing!” 

He spoke in short, quick sentences, and 
gasped between each. Fenn said it really 
didn’t matter — he was quite comfortable. 


170 


THE HEAD OF HAY*S, 


“ Haven’t they done anything about 
it?” asked Fenn’s brother, resuming the 
conversation which Fenn’s entrance had 
interrupted. “We’ve been having a 
burglary here,” he explained. “Somebody 
got into the theatre last night through 
a window. I don’t know what they 
expected to find.” 

“Why,” said Fenn, “we’ve had a burglar 
up our way too. Chap broke into the 
school house and went through the old 
man’s drawing-room. The school house 
men have been talking about nothing else 
ever since. I wonder if it’s the same 
crew.” 

Mr Higgs turned in his chair, and waved 
a stick of grease paint impressively to 
emphasise his point. 

“There,” he said. “There! What I’ve 
been saying all along. No doubt of it. 
Organised gang. And what are the police 
doing? Nothing, sir, nothing. Making 
inquiries. Rot 1 What’s the good of 
inquiries ? ” 

Fenn’s brother suggested mildly that 


DOWN TOWN 


*71 

inquiries were a good beginning. You must 
start somehow. Mr Higgs scouted the 
idea. 

“There ought not to be any doubt, sir. 
They ought to know. To know,” he added, 
with firmness. 

At this point there filtered through the 
closed doors the strains of the opening 
chorus. 

“By Jove, it’s begun!” said Fenn’s 
brother. “ Come on. Bob.” 

“ Where are we going to ? ” asked Fenn, 
as he followed. “ The wings ? ” 

But it seemed that the rules of Mr 
Higgs’ company prevented any outsider 
taking up his position in that desirable 
quarter. The only place from which it 
was possible to watch the performance, 
except by going to the front of the house, 
was the “flies,” situated near the roof of 
the building. 

Fenn found all the pleasures of novelty 
in watching the players from this lofty 
position. Judged by the cold light of 
reason, it was not the best place from 


172 


THE HEAD OF KAY'S. 


whic'h to see a play. It was possible to 
gain only a very foreshortened view of 
the actors. But it was a change after 
sitting ‘‘in front.’’ 

The piece was progressing merrily. The 
gifted author, at first silent and pale, 
began now to show signs of gratification. 
Now and again he chuckled as some jeu 
de mots hit the mark and drew a quick 
gust of laughter from the unseen audience. 
Occasionally he would nudge Fenn to draw 
his attention to some good bit of dialogue 
which was approaching. He was obviously 
enjoying himself. 

The advent of Mr Higgs completed his 
satisfaction, for the audience greeted the 
comedian with roars of applause. As a 
rule Eckleton took its drama through the 
medium of third-rate touring companies, 
which came down with plays that had 
not managed to attract London to any 
great extent, and were trying to make 
up for failures in the metropolis by long 
tours in the provinces. It was seldom 
that an actor of the Higgs type paid the 


DOWN TOWN 


173 


town a visit, and in a play, too, which 
had positively never appeared before on 
any stage. Eckleton appreciated the 
compliment. 

“ Listen,” said Fenn’s brother. “ Isn’t 
that just the part for him? It’s just like 
he was in the dressing-room, eh ? Short 
sentences and everything. The funny part 
of it is that I didn’t know the man when 
I wrote the play. It was all luck.” 

Mr Higgs’ performance sealed the success 
of the piece. The house laughed at every- 
thing he said. He sang a song in his 
gasping way, and they laughed still more. 
Fenn’s brother became incoherent with 
delight. The verdict of Eckleton was 
hardly likely to affect London theatre-goers, 
but it was very pleasant notwithstanding. 
Like every playwright with his first piece, 
he had been haunted by the idea that 
his dialogue “would not act,” that, however 
humorous it might be to a reader, it 
would fall flat when spoken. There was 
no doubt now as to whether the lines 
sounded weU. 


174 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


At the beginning of the second act the 
great Higgs was not on the stage, Fenn’s 
brother knowing enough of the game not 
to bring on his big man too soon. He had 
not to enter for ten minutes or so. The 
author, who had gone down to see him 
during the interval, stayed in the dressing- 
room. Fenn, however, who wanted to see 
all of the piece that he could, went up to 
the ‘‘ flies ” again. 

It occurred to him when he got there 
that he would see more if he took the 
seat which his brother had been occupying. 
It would give him much the same view 
of the stage, and a wider view of the 
audience. He thought it would be amus- 
ing to see how the audience looked from 
the flies.” 

Mr W. S. Gilbert once wrote a poem 
about a certain bishop who, while fond of 
amusing himself, objected to his clergy 
doing likewise. And the consequence was 
that whenever he did so amuse himself, 
he was always haunted by a phantom 
curate, who joined him in his pleasures. 


DOWN TOWN 


175 


much to his dismay. On one occasion he 
stopped to watch a Punch and Judy show, 

“ And heard, as Punch was being treated penally, 

That phantom curate laughing all hyaenally.” 

The disgust and panic of this eminent 
cleric was as nothing compared with that of 
Fenn, when, shifting to his brother’s seat, 
he got the first clear view he had had of 
the audience. In a box to the left of the 
dress-circle sat, “ laughing all hyaenally,” the 
following distinguished visitors : — 

Mr Mulholland of No. 7 College Buildings. 

Mr Baynes of No. 4 ditto, 
and 

Mr Kay. 

Fenn drew back like a flash, knocking 
his chair over as he did so. 

“Giddy, sir?” said a stage hand, 
pleasantly. “Bless you, lots of gents is 
like that when they comes up here. Can’t 
stand the ’eight, they can’t. You’ll be 
all right in a jiffy.” 

“ Yes. It — it is rather high, isn’t it ? ” 
said Fenn. “Awful glare, too.” 

He picked up his chair and sat down 


176 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S. 


well out of sight of the box. Had they 
seen him ? he wondered. Then common 
sense returned to him. They could not 
possibly have seen him. Apart from any 
other reasons, he had only been in his 
brother’s seat for half a dozen seconds. 
No. He was all right so far. But he would 
have to get back to the house, and at once. 
With three of the staff, including his own 
house-master, ranging the town, things were 
a trifle too warm for comfort. He wondered 
it had not occurred to him that, with a big 
attraction at the theatre, some of the staff 
might feel an inclination to visit it. 

He did not stop to say good-bye to his 
brother. Descending from his perch, he 
hurried to the stage door. 

“ It’s in the toobs that I feel it, sir,” said 
the door-keeper, as he let him out, resuming 
their conversation as if they had only 
just parted. Fenn hurried off without 
waiting to hear more. 

It was drizzling outside, and there was 
a fog. Not a “ London particular,” but 
quite thick enough to make it difficult to 


DOWN TOWN. 


177 


see where one was going. People and 
vehicles passed him, vague phantoms in 
the darkness. Occasionally the former 
collided with him, He began to wish he 
had not accepted his brother’s invitation. 
The unexpected sight of the three masters 
had shaken his nerve. Till then only the 
romantic, adventurous side of the expedition 
had struck him. Now the risks began to 
loom larger in his mind. It was all very 
well, he felt, to think, as he had done, that 
he would be expelled if found out, but that 
all the same he would risk it. Detection 
then had seemed a remote contingency. 
With three masters in the offing it became 
at least a possibility. The melancholy 
case of Peter Brown seemed to him now to 
have a more personal significance for him. 

Wrapped in these reflections, he lost his 
way. 

He did not realise this for some time. 
It was borne in upon him when the road 
he was taking suddenly came to an abrupt 
end in a blank wall. Instead of being, as 
he had fancied, in the High Street, he must 

M 


178 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S, 


have branched off into some miserable 
blind alley. 

More than ever he wished he had not 
come. Eckleton was not a town that 
took up a great deal of room on the map 
of England, but it made up for small 
dimensions by the eccentricity with which 
it had been laid out. On a dark and 
foggy night, to one who knew little of its 
geography, it was a perfect maze. 

Fenn had wandered some way when 
the sound of someone whistling a popular 
music-hall song came to him through the 
gloom. He had never heard anything 
more agreeable. 

“I say,” he shouted at a venture, ‘‘can 
you tell me the way to the High Street ? ” 

The whistler stopped in the middle of 
a bar, and presently Fenn saw a figure 
sidling towards him in what struck him as 
a particularly furtive manner. 

“Wot’s thet, gav’nor?” 

“ Can you tell me where the High Street 
is? I’ve lost my way.” 

The vague figure came closer. 


DOWN TOWN. 


179 


‘^’Igh Street? Yus; yer go- ” 

A hand shot out, Fenn felt a sharp wrench 
in the region of his waistcoat, and a moment 
later the stranger had vanished into the fog 
with the prefect’s watch and chain. 

Fenn forgot his desire to return to the 
High Street. He forgot everything except 
that he wished to catch the fugitive, 
maltreat him, and retrieve his property. 
He tore in the direction whence came the 
patter of retreating footsteps. 

There were moments when he thought 
he had him, when he could hear the 
sound of his breathing. But the fog was 
against him. Just as he was almost on 
his man’s heels, the fugitive turned 
sharply into a street which was moderately 
well lighted. Fenn turned after him. He 
had just time to recognise the street as his 
goal, the High Street, when somebody, 
walking unexpectedly out of the corner 
house, stood directly in his path. Fenn 
could not stop himself. He charged the 
man squarely, clutched him to save himself, 
and they fell in a heap on the pavement. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

WHAT HAPPENED TO FENN. 

was up first. Many years’ experi- 



ence of being tackled at full speed on 
the football field had taught him how to 
fall. The stranger, whose football days, if 
he had ever had any, were long past, had 
gone down with a crash, and remained 
on the pavement, motionless. Fenn was 
conscious of an ignoble impulse to fly 
without stopping to chat about the matter. 
Then he was seized with a gruesome fear 
that he had injured the man seriously, 
which vanished when the stranger sat up. 
His first words were hardly of the sort 
that one would listen to from choice. His 
first printable expression, which did not 
escape him until he had been speaking 


tV//AT UAPP£A£D TO F£nM igi 

some time, was in the nature of an official 
bulletin. 

“You’ve broken my neck,” said he. 

Fenn renewed his apologies and explana- 
tions. 

“ Your watch ! ” cried the man in a high, 
cracked voice. “ Don’t stand there talking 
about your watch, but help me up. What 
do I care about your watch? Why don’t 
you look where you are going to? Now 
then, now then, don’t hoist me as if I were 
a hod of bricks. That’s right. Now help 
me indoors, and go away.” 

Fenn supported him while he walked 
lamely into the house. He was relieved 
to find that there was nothing more the 
matter with him than a shaking and a few 
bruises. 

“Door on the left,” said the injured 
one. 

Fenn led him down the passage and 
into a small sitting-room. The gas was lit, 
and as he turned it up he saw that the 
stranger was a man well advanced in years. 
He had grey hair that was almost white. 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S. 


182 

His face was not a pleasant one. It was 
a mass of lines and wrinkles from which 
a physiognomist would have deduced uncom- 
plimentary conclusions as to his character. 
Fenn had little skill in that way, but he 
felt that for some reason he disliked the 
man, whose eyes, which were small and 
extraordinarily bright, gave rather an eerie 
look to his face. 

“Go away, go away,” he kept repeating 
savagely from his post on the shabby sofa 
on which Fenn had deposited him. 

“But are you all right? Can’t I get 
you something?” asked the Eckletonian. 

“60 away, go away,” repeated the man. 

Conversation on these lines could never 
be really attractive. Fenn turned to go. 
As he closed the door and began to feel 
his way along the dark passage, he heard 
the key turn in the lock behind him. The 
man could not, he felt, have been very 
badly hurt if he were able to get across 
the room so quickly. The thought relieved 
him somewhat. Nobody likes to have the 
maiming even of the most complete stranger 


IV//AT HAPPENED TO FENN. 


1*3 


on his mind. The sensation of relief lasted 
possibly three seconds. Then it flashed 
upon him that in the excitement of the 
late interview he had forgotten his cap. 
That damaging piece of evidence lay on 
the table in the sitting-room, and between 
him and it was a locked door. 

He groped his way back, and knocked. 
No sound came from the room. 

“I say,” he cried, “you might let me 
have my cap. I left it on the table.” 

No reply. 

Fenn half thought of making a violent 
assault on the door. He refrained on re- 
flecting that it would be useless. If he 
could break it open — which, in all prob- 
ability, he could not — there would be trouble 
such as he had never come across in his 
life. He was not sure it would not be 
an offence for which he would be rendered 
liable to fine or imprisonment. At any 
rate, it would mean the certain detection 
of his visit to the town. So he gave the 
thing up, resolving to return on the morrow 
and reopen negotiations. For the present, 


what he had to do was to get safely hack 
to his house. He had lost his watch, his 
cap with his name in it was in the hands 
of an evil old man who evidently bore him 
a grudge, and he had to run the gauntlet 
of three house-masters and get to bed vid 
a study-window. Few people, even after 
the dullest of plays, have returned from 
the theatre so disgusted with everything 
as did Fenn. Reviewing the situation as 
he ran with long, easy strides over the 
road that led to Kay’s, he found it devoid 
of any kind of comfort. Unless his mission 
in quest of the cap should prove successful, 
he was in a tight place. 

It is just as well that the gift of second 
sight is accorded to but few. If Fenn could 
have known at this point that his adventures 
were only beginning, that what had taken 
place already was but as the overture to 
a drama, it is possible that he would have 
thrown up the sponge for good and all, 
entered Kay’s by way of the front door — 
after knocking up the entire household — 
and remarked, in answer to his house-master’s 


WHAT HAPPENED TO FENN 185 

excited questions, “ Enough ! Enough I I 
am a victim of Fate, a Toad beneath the 
Harrow. Sack me to-morrow, if you like, 
but for goodness’ sake let me get quietly 
to bed now.” 

As it was, not being able to peep with 
security into futurity,” he imagined that 
the worst was over. 

He began to revise this opinion imme- 
diately on turning in at Kay’s gate. He 
had hardly got half-way down the drive 
when the front door opened and two 
indistinct figures came down the steps. 
As they did so his foot slipped off the 
grass border on which he was running to 
deaden the noise of his steps, and grated 
sharply on the gravel. 

“What’s that?” said a voice. The 
speaker was Mr Kay. 

“What’s what?” replied a second voice 
which he recognised as Mr Mulholland’s. 

“ Didn’t you hear a noise ? ” 

“‘I heard the water lapping on the 
crag,”’ replied Mr Mulholland, poetically. 

“It was over there,” persisted Mr Kay. 


“ I am certain I heard something — posi- 
tively certain, Miilholland. And after that 
burglary at the school house 

He began to move towards the spot 
where Fenn lay crouching behind a bush. 
Mr Miilholland followed, mildly amused. 
They were a dozen yards away when Fenn, 
debating in his mind whether it would not 
be better — as it would certainly be more 
dignified — for him to rise and deliver himself 
up to justice instead of waiting to be 
discovered wallowing in the damp grass 
behind a laurel bush, was aware of some- 
thing soft and furry pressing against his 
knuckles. A soft purring sound reached his 
ears. 

He knew at once who it was — Thomas 
Edward, the matron’s cat, ever a staunch 
friend of his. Many a time had they taken 
tea together in his study in happier days. 
The friendly animal had sought him out 
in his hiding-place, and was evidently trying 
to intimate that the best thing they could 
do now would be to make a regular night 
of it. 


WHAT HAPPENED TO FENN. 


187 


Fenn, as I have said, liked and respected 
Thomas. In ordinary circumstances he 
would not have spoken an unfriendly word 
to him. But things were desperate now, 
and needed remedies to match. 

Very softly he passed his hand down the 
delighted animal’s back until he reached 
his tail. Then, stifling with an effort all 
the finer feelings which should have made 
such an act impossible, he administered so 
vigorous a tweak to that appendage that 
Thomas, with one frenzied yowl, sprang 
through the bush past the two masters 
and vanished at full speed into the opposite 
hedge. 

My goodness ! ” said Mr Kay, starting 
back. 

It was a further shock to Fenn to find 
how close he was to the laurel. 

“ ‘Goodness me, 

Why, what was that I 
Silent be, 

It was the cat,’ ** 

chanted Mr Mulholland, who was in poetical 
vein after the theatre. 


“ It was a cat ! ” gasped Mr Kay. 

“ So I am disposed to imagine. What 
lungs! We shall be having the R.S.P.C.A. 
down on us if we aren’t careful. They 
must have heard that noise at the head- 
quarters of the Society, wherever they are. 
Well, if your zeal for big game hunting is 
satisfied, and you don’t propose to follow 
the vocalist through that hedge, I think 
I will be off. Good-night. Good piece, 
wasn’t it ? ** 

“Excellent. Good-night, Mulholland.” 

“By the way, I wonder if the man who 
wrote it is a relation of our Fenn. It 
may be his brother — I believe he writes. 
You probably remember him when he was 
here. He was before my time. Talking 
of Fenn, how do you find the new arrange- 
ment answer ? Is Kennedy an improve- 
ment ? ” 

“Kennedy,” said Mr Kay, “is a well- 
meaning boy, I think. Quite well-meaning. 
But he lacks ability, in my opinion. I have 
had to speak to him on several occasions 
on account of disturbances amongst the 


WHAl HAPPENED TO FENN. 


189 


juniors. Once I found two boys actually 
fighting in the junior day-room. I was 
very much annoyed about it.” 

“And where was Kennedy while this was 
going on? Was he holding the watch?” 

“The watch?” said Mr Kay, in a puzzled 
tone of voice. “ Kennedy was over at the 
gymnasium when it occurred.” 

“Then it was hardly his fault that the 
fight took place.” 

“My dear Mulholland, if the head of a 
house is eflBcient, fights should be im- 
possible. Even when he is not present, 
his influence, his prestige, so to speak, 
should be sufficient to restrain the boys 
under him.” 

Mr Mulholland whistled softly. 

“So that’s your idea of what the head 
of your house should be like, is it? Well, 
I know of one fellow who would have been 
just your man. Unfortunately, he is never 
likely to come to school at Eckleton.” 

“ Indeed ? ” said Mr Kay, with interest. 
“Who is that? Where did you meet 
him ? What school is he at ? ” 


190 


THE HEAD OF KA 


‘‘I never said I had met him. I only 
go by what 1 have heard of him. And as 
far as I know, he is not at any school. He 
was a gentleman of the name of Napoleon 
Bonaparte. He might just have been equal 
to the arduous duties which devolve upon 
the head of your house. Good-night.*’ 

And Fenn heard his footsteps crunch 
the gravel as he walked away. A minute 
later the front door shut, and there was 
a rattle. Mr Kay had put the chain up 
and retired for the night. 

Fenn lay where he was for a short while 
longer. Then he rose, feeling very stiff 
and wet, and crept into one of the summer- 
houses which stood in Mr Kay’s garden. 
Here he sat for an hour and a half, at the 
end of which time, thinking that Mr Kay 
must be asleep, he started out to climb 
into the house. 

His study was on the first floor. A 
high garden-seat stood directly beneath the 
window and acted as a convenient ladder. 
It was easy to get from this on to the 
window-ledge. Once there he could open 


IV//AT HAPPENED TO FENN. 


191 


the window, and the rest would be plain 
sailing. 

Unhappily, there was one flaw in his 
scheme. He had conceived that scheme in 
the expectation that the window would be 
as he had left it. 

But it was not. 

During his absence somebody had shot 
the bolt. And, try his hardest, he could 
not move the sash an inch. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


FBNN HUNTS FOR HIMSELF. 

l^OBODY knows for certain the feelings 
of the camel when his proprietor 
placed that last straw on his back. The 
incident happened so long ago. If it had 
occurred in modern times, he would probably 
have contributed a first-hand report to the 
Daily Mail. But it is very likely that he 
felt on that occasion exactly as Fenn felt 
when, after a night of unparalleled mis- 
adventure, he found that somebody had 
cut off his retreat by latching the window. 
After a gruelling race Fate had just beaten 
him on the tape. 

There was no doubt about its being 
latched. The sash had not merely stuck. 

198 


FENN HUNTS FOR HIMSELF, 


93 


He put all he knew into the effort to 
raise it, but without a hint of success. 
After three attempts he climbed down 
again and, sitting on the garden-seat, 
began to review his position. 

If one has an active mind and a fair 
degree of optimism, the effect of the 
“staggerers” administered by Fate passes 
off after a while. Fenn had both. The 
consequence was that, after ten minutes 
of grey despair, he was relieved by a faint 
hope that there might be some other way 
into the house than through his study. 
Anyhow, it would be worth while to 
investigate. 

His study was at the side of the house. 
At the back were the kitchen, the scullery, 
and the dining-room, and above these 
more studies and a couple of dormitories 
As a last resort he might fling rocks and 
other solids at the windows until he woke 
somebody up. But he did not feel like 
trying this plan until every other had 
failed. He had no desire to let a garrulous 
dormitory into the secret of his wanderings. 


194 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S. 


What he hoped was that he might find 
one of the lower windows open. 

And so he did. 

As he turned the corner of the house 
he saw what he had been looking for. 
The very first window was wide open. 
His spirits shot up, and for the first time 
since he had left the theatre he was 
conscious of taking a pleasure in his 
adventurous career. Fate was with him 
after all. He could not help smiling as 
he remembered how he had felt during 
that ten minutes on the garden-seat, when 
the future seemed blank and devoid of 
any comfort whatsoever. And all the 
time he could have got in without an 
effort, if he had only thought of walking 
half a dozen yards. 

Now that the way was open to him, he 
wasted no time. He climbed through 
into the dark room. He was not certain 
which room it was, in spite of his lengthy 
residence at Kay’s. 

He let himself down softly till his foot 
touched the floor. After a moment’s pause 


FENN HUNTS FOR HIMSELF. 


*95 


he moved forward a step. Then another. 
At the third step his knee struck the leg 
of a table. He must be in the dining-room. 
If so, he was all right. He could find his 
way up to his room with his eyes shut. It 
was easy to find out for certain. The 
walls of the dining-room at Kay’s, as in 
the other houses, were covered with 
photographs. He walked gingerly in the 
direction in which he imagined the nearest 
wall to be, reached it, and passed his hand 
along it. Yes, there were photographs. 
Then all he had to do was to find the table 
again, make his way along it, and when he 
got to the end the door would be a yard or 
so to his left. The programme seemed 
simple and attractive. But it was added 
to in a manner which he had not foreseen. 
Feeling his way back to the table, he upset 
a chair. If he had upset a cart-load of 
coal on to a sheet of tin it could not, so 
it seemed to him in the disordered state of 
his nerves, have made more noise. It went 
down with an appalling crash, striking the 
table on its way. 


196 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S, 


“This,” thought Fenn, savagely, as he 
waited, listening, “is where I get collared. 
What a fool I am to barge about like this.” 

He felt that the echoes of that crash 
must have penetrated to every corner of 
the house. But no one came. Perhaps, 
after all, the noise had not been so great. 
He proceeded on his journey down the 
table, feeling every inch of the way. The 
place seemed one bristling mass of chairs. 
But, by the exercise of consummate 
caution, he upset no more and won 
through at last in safety to the door. 

It was at this point that the really 
lively and exciting part of his adventure 
began. Compared with what was to 
follow, his evening had been up to the 
present dull and monotonous. 

As he opened the door there was a 
sudden stir and crash at the other end of 
the room. Fenn had upset one chair and 
the noise had nearly deafened him. Now 
chairs seemed to be falling in dozens. 
Bang ! Bang ! Crash ! I (two that time). 
And then somebody shot through the 


FENN HUNTS FOR HIMSELF. 


197 


window like a harlequin and dashed away 
across the lawn. Fenn could hear his 
footstep? thudding on the soft turf. And 
at the same moment other footsteps made 
themselves heard. 

Somebody was coming downstairs. 

“Who is that? Is anybody there?” 

It was Mr Kay’s voice, unmistakably 
nervous. Fenn darted from the door and 
across the passage. At the other side was 
a boot-cupboard. It was his only refuge in 
that direction. What he ought to have 
done was to leave the dining-room by the 
opposite door, which led md, a corridor to 
the junior dayroom. But he lost his head, 
and instead of bolting away from the enemy, 
went towards him. 

The stairs down which Mr Kay was 
approaching were at the end of the 
passage. To reach the dining-room one 
turned to the right. Beyond the stairs 
on the left the passage ended in a wall, 
so that Mr Kay was bound to take the 
right direction in the search. Fenn 
wondered if he had a pistol. Not that 


THE HEAD OF KA V*S, 


19S 

he cared very much. If the house-master 
was going to find him, it would be very 
little extra discomfort to be shot at. And 
Mr Kay’s talents as a marksman were in 
all probability limited to picking off sitting 
haystacks. The important point was that 
he had a candle. A faint yellow glow 
preceded him down the stairs. Playing 
hide-and-seek with him in the dark, Fenn 
might have slipped past in safety ; but the 
candle made that impossible. 

He found the boot-room door and slipped 
through just as Mr Kay turned the corner. 
With a thrill of pleasure he found that 
there was a key inside. He turned it as 
quietly as he could, but nevertheless it 
grated. Having done this, and seeing 
nothing else that he could do except 
await developments, he sat down on the 
floor among the boots. It was not a 
dignified position for a man who had 
played for his county while still at school, 
but just then he would not have exchanged 
it for a throne — if the throne had been 
placed in the passage or the dining-room. 


FENN HUNTS FOR HIMSELF, 


199 


The only question was — had he been 
seen or heard ? He thought not ; but his 
heart began to beat furiously as the foot- 
steps stopped outside the cupboard door 
and unseen fingers rattled the handle. 

Twice Mr Kay tried the handle, but, 
finding the cupboard locked, passed on 
into the dining-room. The light of the 
candle ceased to shine under the door, 
and Fenn was once more in inky dark- 
ness. 

He listened intently. A minute later he 
had made his second mistake. Instead of 
waiting, as he should have done, until Mr 
Kay had retired for good, he unlocked 
the door directly he had passed, and when 
a muffled crash told him that the house- 
master was in the dining-room among the 
chairs, out he came and fled softly upstairs 
towards his bedroom. He thought that 
Mr Kay might possibly take it into his head 
to go round the dormitories to make certain 
that all the members of his house were in. 
In which case all would be discovered. 

When he reached his room he began to 


200 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S, 


fling off his clothes with feverish haste. 
Once in bed all would be well. 

He had got out of his boots, his coat, 
and his waistcoat, and was beginning to 
feel that electric sensation of triumph 
which only comes to the man who just 
pulls through, when he heard Mr Kay 
coming down the corridor towards his 
room. The burglar-hunter, returning from 
the dining-room in the full belief that the 
miscreant had escaped through the open 
window, had had all his ardour for the 
chase redoubled by the sight of the cup- 
board door, which Fenn in his hurry had 
not remembered to close. Mr Kay had 
made certain by two separate trials that 
that door had been locked. And now it 
was wide open. Ergo, the apostle of the 
jemmy and the skeleton key must still be 
in the house. Mr Kay, secure in the 
recollection that burglars never show 
fight if they can possibly help it, deter- 
mined to search the house. 

Fenn made up his mind swiftly. There 
was no time to finish dressing. Mr Kay, 


FENN HUNTS FOR HIMSELF, 


201 


peering round, might note the absence of 
the rest of his clothes from their accustomed 
pegs if he got into bed as he was. There 
was only one thing to be done. He threw 
back the bed-clothes, ruffled the sheets 
till the bed looked as if it had been slept 
in, and opened the door just as Mr Kay 
reached the threshold. 

“ Anything the matter, sir ? ” asked 
Fenn, promptly. “I heard a noise down- 
stairs. Can I help you?” 

Mr Kay looked carefully at the ex-head 
of his house. Fenn was a finely-developed 
youth. He stood six feet, and all of him 
that was not bone was muscle. A useful 
colleague to have by one in a hunt for a 
possibly ferocious burglar. 

So thought Mr Kay. 

“So yo\i heard the noise?” he said. 
“ Well, perhaps you had better come with 
me. There is no doubt that a burglar 
has entered the house to-night, in spite 
of the fact that I locked all the windows 
myself Your study window was unlocked, 
Fenn. It was extremely careless of you 


9oa 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


to leave it in such a condition, and I hope 
you will be more careful in future. Why, 
somebody might have got in through it.” 

Fenn thought it was not at all unlikely. 

‘‘Come along, then. I am sure the man 
is still in the house. He was hiding in 
the cupboard by the dining-room. I know 
it. I am sure he is still in the house.” 

But, in spite of the fact that Fenn 
was equally sure, half an hour’s search 
failed to discover any lurking evil-doer. 

“You had better go to bed, Fenn,” said 
Mr Kay, disgustedly, at the end of that 
period. “ He must have got back in some 
extraordinary manner.” 

“Yes, sir,” agreed Fenn. 

He himself had certainly got back in a 
very extraordinary manner. 

However, he had got back, which was 
the main point. 


CHAPTER XVill. 


A VAIN QUEST. 



FTER all he had gone through that 


^ night, it disturbed Fenn very little to 
find on the following morning that the 
professional cracksman had gone off with 
one of the cups in his study. Certainly, 
it was not as bad as it might have been, 
for he had only abstracted one out of the 
half dozen that decorated the room. Fenn 
was a fine runner, and had won the 
‘‘sprint” events at the sports for two 
years now. 

The news of the burglary at Kay’s soon 
spread about the school. Mr Kay mentioned 
it to Mr Mulholland, and Mr Mulholland 
discussed it at lunch with the prefects of 
his house. The juniors of Kay’s were 


2C4 


THE HEAD OF KA r*5. 


among the last to hear of it, but when 
they did, they made the most of it, to the 
disgust of the School House fags, to whom 
the episode seemed in the nature of an 
infringement of copyright. Several spirited 
by-battles took place that day owing to 
this, and at the lower end of the table of 
Kay’s dining-room at tea that evening there 
could be seen many swollen countenances. 
All, however, wore pleased smiles. They 
had proved to the School House their right 
to have a burglary of their own if they 
liked. It was the first occasion since 
Kennedy had become head of the house 
that Kay’s had united in a common and 
patriotic cause. 

Directly afternoon school was over that 
day, Fenn started for the town. The only 
thing that caused him any anxiety now 
was the fear lest the cap which he had 
left in the house in the High Street might 
rise up as evidence against him later on. 
Except for that, he was safe. The Head- 
master had evidently not remembered his 
absence from the festive board, or he would 


A VAIN QUEST, 


205 


have spoken to him on the subject before 
now. If he could but recover the lost cap, 
all would be right with the world. Give 
him back that cap, and he would turn over 
a new leaf with a rapidity and emphasis 
which would lower the world’s record for 
that performance. He would he a reformed 
character. He would even go to the extent 
of calling a truce with Mr Kay, climbing 
down to Kennedy, and offering him his 
services in his attempt to lick the house 
into shape. 

As a matter of fact, he had had this 
idea before. Jimmy Silver, who was in 
the position — common at school — of being 
very friendly with two people who were 
not on speaking terms, had been at him 
on the topic. 

“It’s rot,” James had said, with perfect 
truth, “to see two chaps like you making 
idiots of themselves over a house like Kay’s. 
And it’s all your fault, too,” he had added 
frankly. “You know jolly well you aren’t 
playing the game. You ought to be back- 
ing Kennedy up all the time. Instead of 


206 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S. 


which, you go about trying to look like a 
Christian martyr ” 

“I don’t,” said Fenn, indignantly. 

“Well, like a stuffed frog, then — ^it’s all 
the same to me. It’s perfect rot. If I’m 
walking with Kennedy, you stalk past as 
if we’d both got the plague or something. 
And if I’m with you, Kennedy suddenly 
remembers an appointment, and dashes off 
at a gallop in the opposite direction. If I 
had to award the bronze medal for drivell- 
ing lunacy in this place, you would get it 
by a narrow margin, and Kennedy would 
be proxime^ and honourably mentioned. 
Silly idiots ! ” 

“Don’t stop, Jimmy. Keep it up,” said 
Fenn, settling himself in his chair. The 
dialogue was taking place in Silver’s study. 

“My dear chap, you didn’t think I’d 
finished, surely ! I was only trying to find 
some description that would suit you. But 
it’s no good. I can’t. Look here, take 
my ad\uce — the advice,” he added, in the 
melodramatic voice he was in the habit of 
using whenever he wished to conceal the 


A VAIN QUEST. 


K>7 


fact that he was speaking seriously, an 
old man who wishes ye both well. Go to 
Kennedy, fling yourself on his chest, and 
say, ‘We have done those things which we 

ought not to have done ’ No. As you 

were I Compn’y, ’shun I Say ‘ J. Silver 
says that I am a rotter. I am a worm. 
I have made an ass of myself But I will 
he good. Shake, pard I That’s what 
you’ve got to do. Come in.” 

And in had come Kennedy. The attrac- 
tions of Kay’s were small, and he usually 
looked in on Jimmy Silver in the after- 
noons. 

“Oh, sorry,” he said, as he saw Penn. 
“ I thought you were alone, Jimmy.” 

“I was just going,” said Penn, politely. 

“Oh, don’t let me disturb you,” pro- 
tested Kennedy, with winning courtesy. 

“Not at all,” said Penn. 

“Oh, if you really were ” 

“Oh, yes, really.” 

“ Get out, then,” growled Jimmy, who 
had been listening in speechless disgust to 
the beautifully polite conversation just 


2o8 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5’. 


recorded. forward that bronze medal 

to you, Eenn.” 

And as the door closed he had turned 
to rend Kennedy as he had rent Fenn; 
while Fenn walked back to Kay’s feeling 
that there was a good deal in what Jimmy 
had said. 

So that when he went down town that 
afternoon in search of his cap, he pondered 
as he walked over the advisability of 
making a fresh start. It would not be a 
bad idea. But first he must concentrate 
his energies on recovering what he had lost. 

He found the house in the High Street 
without a great deal of. difficulty, for he 
had marked the spot carefully as far as 
that had been possible in the fog. 

The door was opened to him, not by the 
old man with whom he had exchanged 
amenities on the previous night, but by a 
short, thick fellow, who looked exactly like 
a picture of a loafer from the pages of a 
comic journal. He eyed Fenn with what 
might have been meant for an inquiring 
look. To Fenn it seemed merely menacing. 


A VAIN QUEST. 


3C>9 


“Wodyer want?*’ he asked, abruptly. 

Eckleton was not a great distance from 
London, and, as a consequence, many of 
London’s choicest blackguards migrated 
there from time to time. During the 
hopping season, and while the local races 
were on, one might meet with two Cockney 
twangs for every country accent. 

“I want to see the old gentleman who 
lives here,” said Fenn. 

“Wot old gentleman?” 

“ I’m afraid I don’t know his name. Is 
this a home for old gentlemen? If you’ll 
bring out all you’ve got. I’ll find my one.” 

“Wodyer want see the old gentleman 
for?” 

“To ask for my cap. I left it here last 
night.” 

“Oh, yer left it ’ere last night! Well, 
yer cawn’t see ’im.” 

“ Not from here, no,” agreed Fenn. 
“Being only eyes, you see,” he quoted 
happily, “my wision’s limited. But if you 
wouldn’t mind moving out of the way ” 

“Yer cawn’t see ’im. Blimey, ’ow much 

0 


210 


THE HEAD OF KAY^S. 


more of it, I should like to know. 
Gerroutovit, cawn’t yer I You and yer 
caps.” 

And he added a searching expletive 
by way of concluding the sentence fit- 
tingly. After which he slipped back and 
slammed the door, leaving Fenn waiting 
outside like the Peri at the gate ot 
Paradise. 

His resemblance to the Peri ceased after 
the first quarter of a minute. That lady, 
we read, took her expulsion lying down. 
Fenn was more vigorous. He seized the 
knocker, and banged lustily on the door. 
He had given up all hope of getting back 
the cap. All he wanted was to get the 
doorkeeper out into the open again, when 
he would proceed to show him, to the best 
of his ability, what was what. It would 
not be the first time he had taken on a 
gentleman of the same class and a similar 
type of conversation. 

But the man refused to be drawn. For 
all the reply Fenn’s knocking produced, 
the house might have been empty. At 


A VAIN QUEST. 


2II 


last, having tired his wrist and collected 
a small crowd of Young Eckleton, who 
looked as if they expected him to proceed 
to further efforts for their amusement, he 
gave it up, and retired down the High 
Street with what dignity he could command 
— which, as he was followed for the first 
fifty yards by the silent but obviously 
expectant youths, was not a great deal. 

They left him, disappointed, near the 
Town Hall, and Fenn continued on his 
way alone. The window of the grocer’s 
shop, with its tins of preserved apricots 
and pots of jam, recalled to his mind what 
he had forgotten, that the food at Kay’s, 
though it might be wholesome (which he 
doubted), was undeniably plain, and, 
secondly, that he had run out of jam. 
Now that he was here he might as well 
supply that deficiency. 

Now it chanced that Master Wren, of 
Kay’s, was down town — without leave, as 
was his habit — on an errand of a very 
similar nature. Walton had found that 
he, like Fenn, lacked those luxuries of life 


212 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


which are so much more necessary than 
necessities, and, being unable to go him- 
self, owing to the unfortunate accident of 
being kept in by his form-master, had 
asked Wren to go for him. Wren’s visit 
to the grocer’s was just ending when 
Fenn’s began. 

They met in the doorway. 

Wren looked embarrassed, and nearly 
dropped a pot of honey, which he secured 
low down after the manner of a catch in 
the slips. Fenn, on the other hand, took 
no notice of his fellow-Kayite, but walked 
on into the shop and began to inspect the 
tins of biscuits which were stacked on tne 
floor by the counter. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE GUn^E OF WREN. 

TTHREN did not quite know what to make 
^ ’ of this. Why had not Fenn said a 
word to him? There were one or two 
prefects in the school whom he might have 
met even at such close quarters and yet 
have cherished a hope that they had not 
seen him. Once he had run right into 
Drew, of the School House, and escaped 
unrecognised. But with Fenn it was 
different. Compared to Fenn, lynxes were 
astigmatic. He must have spotted him. 

There was a vein of philosophy in Wren’s 
composition. He felt that he might just 
as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. 
In other words, having been caught down 
town without leave, he might as well stay 


2f4 


THE HEAD OF KA F’5. 


there and enjoy himself a little while longer 
before going back to be executed. So he 
strolled off down the High Street, bought 
a few things at a stationer s, and wound up 
with an excellent tea at the confectioner’s 
by the post-office. 

It was as he was going to this meal that 
Kennedy caught sight of him. Kennedy 
had come down town to visit the local 
photographer, to whom he had entrusted 
a fortnight before the pleasant task of 
taking his photograph. As he had heard 
nothing from him since, he was now coming 
to investigate. He entered the High Street 
as Wren was turning into the confectioner’s, 
saw him, and made a note of it for future 
reference. 

When Wren returned to the house just 
before lock-up, he sought counsel of Walton. 

“I say,” he said, as he handed over the 
honey he had saved so neatly from destruc- 
tion, ‘‘what would you do? Just as I 
was coming out of the shop, I barged into 
Fenn. He must have twigged me.” 

“ Didn’t he say anything ? ” 


THE GUILE OF WREN, 


2tS 


“Not a word. I couldn’t make it out, 
because he must have seen me. We 
weren’t a yard away from one another.” 

“ It’s dark in the shop,” suggested 
Walton. 

“Not at the door; which is where we 
met.” 

Before Walton could find anything to 
say in reply to this, their conversation was 
interrupted by Spencer. 

“Kennedy wants you, Wren,” said 
Spencer. “You’d better buck up; he’s in 
an awful wax.” 

Next to Walton, the vindictive Spencer 
objected most to Wren, and he did not 
attempt to conceal the pleasure he felt in 
being the bearer of this ominous summons. 

The group broke up. Wren went dis- 
consolately upstairs to Kennedy’s study; 
Walton smacked Spencer’s head — more as 
a matter of form than because he had 
done anything special to annoy him — and 
retired to the senior dayroom ; while 
Spencer, muttering darkly to himself, 
avoided a second smack and took cover in 


2i6 


THE HEAD OF KAY'S, 


the junior room, where he consoled himself 
by toasting a piece of india-rubber in the 
gas till it made the atmosphere painful to 
breathe in, and recalling with pleasure the 
condition Walton’s face had been in for 
the day or two following his encounter 
with Kennedy in the dormitory. 

Kennedy was working when Wren 
knocked at his door. 

He had not much time to spare on a 
bounds-breaking fag; and his manner was 
curt. 

saw you going into Rose’s, in the 
High Street, this afternoon. Wren,” he 
said, looking up from his Greek prose. “ I 
didn’t give you leave. Come up here after 
prayers to-night. Shut the door.” 

Wren went down to consult Walton 
again. His attitude with regard to a 
licking from the head of the house was 
much like that of the other fags. Custom 
had, to a certain extent, inured him to 
these painful interviews, but still, if it was 
possible, he preferred to keep out of them. 
Under Fenn’s rule he had often found a 


THE GUILE OF WREN. 


217 


tolerably thin excuse serve his need. Fenn 
had so many other things to do that he 
was not unwilling to forego an occasional 
licking, if the excuse was good enough. 
And he never took the trouble to find out 
whether the ingenious stories Wren was 
wont to serve up to him were true or not. 
Kennedy, Wren reflected uncomfortably, had 
given signs that this easy-going method 
would not do for him. Still, it might be 
possible to hunt up some story that would 
meet the case. Walton had a gift in that 
direction. 

‘‘He says I’m to go to his study after 
prayers,” reported Wren. “Can’t you 
think of any excuse that would do?” 

“ Can’t understand Fenn running you in,” 
said Walton. “I thought he never spoke 
to Kennedy.” 

Wren explained. 

“ It wasn’t Fenn who ran me in. 
Kennedy was down town, too, and twigged 
me going into Rose’s. I went there and 
had tea after I got your things at the 
grocer’s.” 


2X8 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S, 


“Oh, he spotted you himself, did he?” 
said Walton. “And he doesn’t know Fenn 
saw you?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Then I’ve got a ripping idea. When 
he has you up to-night, swear that you 
got leave from Fenn to go down town.” 

“But he’ll ask him.” 

“The odds are that he won’t. He and 
Fenn had a row at the beginning of term, 
and never speak to one another if they 
can help it. It’s ten to one that he will 
prefer taking your yarn to going and 
asking Fenn if it’s true or not. Then he’s 
bound to let you off.” 

Wren admitted that the scheme was 
sound. 

At the conclusion of prayers, therefore, 
he went up again to Kennedy’s study, with 
a more hopeful air than he had worn on 
his previous visit. 

“Come in,” said Kennedy, reaching for 
the swagger-stick which he was accustomed 
to use at these ceremonies. 

“Please, Kennedy,” said Wren, glibly. 


THE GUILE OF WREN. 


219 


“ I did get leave to go down town this 
afternoon.” 

“What!” 

Wren repeated the assertion. 

“Who gave you leave?” 

“Fenn.” 

The thing did not seem to be working 
properly. When he said the word “Fenn,” 
Wren expected to see Kennedy retire 
baffled, conscious that there was nothing 
more to be said or done. Instead of this, 
the remark appeared to infuriate him. 

“It’s just like your beastly cheek,” he 
said, glaring at the red-headed delinquent, 
“to ask Fenn for leave instead of me. 
You know perfectly well that only the 
head of the house can give leave to go 
down town. I don’t know how often you 
and the rest of the junior dayroom have 
played this game, but it’s going to stop 
now. You’d better remember another time 
when you want to go to Rose’s that I’ve 
got to be consulted first.” 

With which he proceeded to ensure to 
the best bf his ability that the memory 


220 


THE HEAD OF KA K‘5. 


of Master Wren should not again prove 
treacherous in this respect. 

“How did it work? ” asked Walton, when 
Wren returned. 

“It didn’t,” said Wren, briefly, 

Walton expressed an opinion that Ken- 
nedy was a cad; which, however sound in 
itself, did little to improve the condition 
of Wren. 

Having disposed of Wren, Kennedy sat 
down seriously to consider this new develop- 
ment of a difficult situation. Hitherto he 
had imagined Fenn to be merely a sort of 
passive resister who confined himself to 
the Achilles-in-his-tent business, and was 
only a nuisance because he refused to back 
him up. To find him actually aiding and 
abetting the house in its opposition to its 
head was something of a shock. And yet, 
if he had given Wren leave to go down 
town, he had probably done the same kind 
office by others. It irritated Kennedy more 
than the most overt act of enmity would 
have done. It was not good form. It was 
hitting below the belt. There was, ot 


THE GUILE OF WREN. 


221 


course, the chance that Wren’s story had 
not been true. But he did not build much 
on that. He did not yet know his Wren 
well, and believed that such an audacious 
lie would be beyond the daring of a fag. But 
it would be worth while to make inquiries. 
He went down the passage to Fenn’s study. 
Fenn, however, had gone to bed, so he 
resolved to approach him on the subject 
next day. There was no hurry. 

He went to his dormitory, feeling very 
bitter towards Fenn, and rehearsing home 
truths with which to confound him on the 


morrow. 


CHAPTER XX. 

JIMMY THE PEACEMAKER. 

TN these hustling times it is not always 

■*" easy to get ten minutes’ conversation 

with an acquaintance in private. There 

was drill in the dinner hour next day for 

the corps, to which Kennedy had to go 

directly after lunch. It did not end till 

afternoon school began. When afternoon 

school was over, he had to turn out and 

practise scrummaging with the first fifteen, 

in view of an important school match which 

was coming off on the following Saturday. 

Kennedy had not yet received his cap, but 

he was playing regularly for the first fifteen, 

and was generally looked upon as a certainty 

for one of the last places in the team. 

Fenn, being a three-quarter, had not to 
222 


JIMMY THE PEACEMAKER, 


223 


participate in this practice. While the 
forwards were scrummaging on the second 
fifteen ground, the outsides ran and passed 
on the first fifteen ground over at the other 
end of the field. Fenn’s training for the 
day finished earlier than Kennedy’s, the 
captain of the Eckleton fifteen, who led 
the scrum, not being satisfied with the way 
in which the forwards wheeled. He kept 
them for a quarter of an hour after the 
outsides had done their day’s work, and 
when Kennedy got back to the house and 
went to Fenn’s study, the latter was not 
there. He had evidently changed and gone 
out again, for his football clothes were 
lying in a heap in a corner of the room. 
Going back to his own study, he met 
Spencer. 

“ Have you seen Fenn ? ” he asked. 

“ No,” said the fag. “ He hasn’t come 
in.” 

“He’s come in all right, but hes gone 
out again. 60 and ask Taylor if he knows 
where he is.” 

Taylor was Fenn’s fag. 


224 


THE HEAD OF KA y*S. 


Spencer went to the junior dayroom, 
and returned with the information that 
Taylor did not know. 

“Oh, all right, then — it doesn’t matter,” 
said Kennedy, and went into his study to 
change. 

He had completed this operation, and 
was thinking of putting his kettle on for 
tea, when there was a knock at the door. 
It was Baker, Jimmy Silver’s fag. 

“Oh, Kennedy,” he said, “Silver says, 
if you aren’t doing anything special, will 
you go over to his study to tea ? ” 

“ Why, is there anything on ? ” 

It struck him as curious that Jimmy 
should take the trouble to send his fag 
over to Kay’s with a formal invitation. 
As a rule the head of Blackburn’s kept 
open house. His friends were given to 
understand that they could drop in when- 
ever they liked. Kennedy looked in for 
tea three times a week on an average. 

“I don’t think so,” said Baker. 

“ Who else is going to be there ? ” 
Jimmy Silver sometimes took it into his 


JIMMY THE PEACEMAKER. 


225 


head to entertain weird beings from other 
houses whose brothers or cousins he had 
met in the holidays. On such occasions he 
liked to have some trusty friend by him 
to help the conversation along. It struck 
Kennedy that this might be one of those 
occasions. If so, he would send back a 
polite but firm refusal of the invitation. 
Last time he had gone to help Jimmy 
entertain a guest of this kind, conversation 
had come to a dead standstill a quarter of 
an hour after his arrival, the guest refusing 
to do anything except eat prodigiously, and 
reply “ Yes,” or “ No,” as the question might 
demand, when spoken to. Also he had 
declined to stir from his seat till a quarter 
to seven. Kennedy was not going to be 
let in for another orgy of that nature if 
he knew it. 

“Who’s with Silver?” he asked. 

“Only Fenn,” said Baker. 

Kennedy pondered for a moment. 

“All right,” he said, at last, “tell him 
ril be round in a few minutes.” 

He sat thinking the thing over after 

p 


226 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


Baker had gone back to Blackburn’s with 
the message. He saw Silver’s game, of 
course. Jimmy had made no secret for 
some time of his disgust at the coolness 
between Kennedy and Fenn. Not knowing 
all the circumstances, he considered it 
absolute folly. If only he could get the 
two together over a quiet pot of tea, he 
imagined that it would not be a difficult 
task to act effectively as a peacemaker. 

Kennedy was sorry for Jimmy. He 
appreciated his feelings in the matter. 
He would not have liked it himself if his 
two best friends had been at daggers 
drawn. Still, he could not bring himself 
to treat Fenn as if nothing had happened, 
simply to oblige Silver. There had been 
a time when he might have done it, but 
now that Fenn had started a deliberate 
campaign against him by giving Wren — and 
probably, thought Kennedy, half the other 
fags in the house— leave down town when 
he ought to have sent them on to him, 
things had gone too far. However, he 
could do no harm by going over to Jimmy’s 


JIMMY THE PEACEMAKER, 


227 


to tea, even if Fenn was there. He had 
not looked to interview Fenn before an 
audience, but if that audience consisted 
only of Jimmy, it would not matter so 
much. 

His advent surprised Fenn. The astute 
James, fancying tliat if he mentioned that 
he was expecting Kennedy to tea, Fenn 
would make a bolt for it, had said nothing 
about it. 

When Kennedy arrived there was one of 
those awkward pauses which are so difficult 
to fill up in a satisfactory manner. 

“Now you’re up, Fenn,” said Jimmy, as 
the latter rose, evidently with the intention 
of leaving the study, “you might as well 
reach down that toasting-fork and make 
some toast.” 

“I’m afraid I must be off now, Jimmy,” 
said Fenn, 

“No you aren’t,” said Silver. “You 
bustle about and make yourself useful, 
and don’t talk rot. You’ll find your cup on 
that shelf over there, Kennedy. It’ll want 
a wipe round. Better use the table-cloth.” 


228 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S, 


There was silence in the study until tea 
was ready. Then Jimmy Silver spoke. 

“ Long time since we three had tea 
together,” he said, addressing the remark 
to the teapot. 

“ Kennedy’s a busy man,” said Fenn, 
suavely. “ He’s got a house to look after.” 

‘‘And I’m going to look after it,” said 
Kennedy, “as you’ll find.” 

Jimmy Silver put in a plaintive protest. 

“ I wish you two men wouldn’t talk 
shop,” he said. “ It’s bad enough having 
Kay’s next door to one, without your 
dragging it into the conversation. How 
were the forwards this evening, Kennedy ? ” 

“Not bad,” said Kennedy, shortly. 

“I wonder if we shall lick Tuppenham 
on Saturday?” 

“I don’t know,” said Kennedy; and there 
was silence again. 

“ Look here, Jimmy,” said Kennedy, after 
a long pause, during which the head of 
Blackburn’s tried to fill up the blank in 
the conversation by toasting a piece of 
bread in a way which was intended to 


JIMMY THE PEACEMAKER. 


129 


suggest that if he were not so busy, the 
talk would be unchecked and animated, 
“it’s no good. We must have it out some 
time, so it may as well be here as any- 
where else. I’ve been looking for Fenn 
all day.” 

“ Sorry to give you all that trouble,” said 
Fenn, with a sneer. “ Got something im- 
portant to say ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Go ahead, then.” 

Jimmy Silver stood between them with 
the toasting-fork in his hand, as if he 
meant to plunge it into the one who first 
showed symptoms of flying at the other’s 
throat. He was unhappy. His peace-making 
tea-party was not proving a success. 

“I wanted to ask you,” said Kennedy, 
quietly, “what you meant by giving the 
fags leave down town when you knew that 
they ought to come to me?” 

The gentle and intelligent reader will 
remember (though that miserable worm, 
the vapid and irreflective reader, will have 
forgotten) that at the beginning of the 


THE HEAD OF KA TS. 


term the fags of Kay’s had endeavoured 
to show their approval of Fenn and their 
disapproval of Kennedy by applying to the 
former for leave when they wished to go 
to the town; and that Fenn had received 
them in the most ungrateful manner with 
blows instead of exeats. Strong in this 
recollection, he was not disturbed by 
Kennedy’s question. Indeed, it gave him 
a comfortable feeling of rectitude. There 
is nothing more pleasant than to be accused 
to your face of something which you can 
deny on the spot with an easy conscience. 
It is like getting a very loose ball at 
cricket. Fenn felt almost friendly towards 
Kennedy. 

‘‘I meant nothing,” he replied, ‘‘for the 
simple reason that I didn’t do it.” 

“I caught Wren down town yester- 
day, and he said you had given him 
leave.” 

*‘Then he lied, and I hope you licked 
him.” 

“ There you are, you see,” broke in 
Jimmy Silver triumphantly, “it’s all a 


JIMMY THE PEACEMAKER. 


23 * 

misunderstanding. You two have got no 
right to be cutting one another. Why on 
earth can’t you stop all this rot, and 
behave like decent members of society 
again ? ” 

“ As a matter of fact,” said Fenn, “ they 
did try it on earlier in the term. I wasted 
a lot of valuable time pointing out to them 
with a swagger-stick — that I was the wrong 
person to come to. I’m sorry you should 
have thought I could play it as low down 
as that.” 

Kennedy hesitated. It is not very 
pleasant to have to climb down after 
starting a conversation in a stormy and 
wrathful vein. But it had to be done. 

“I’m sorry, Fenn,” he said; “I was an 
idiot.” 

Jimmy Silver cut in again. 

“ You were,” he said, with enthusiasm. 
“ You both were. I used to think Fenn 
was a bigger idiot than you, but now I’m 
inclined to call it a dead heat. What’s the 
good of going on trying to see which of 
you can make the bigger fool of him- 


23» 


THE HEAD OF KA K’5. 


self? Youve both lowered all previous 
records.” 

suppose we have,” said Fenn. “At 
least, I have.” 

“No, I have,” said Kennedy. 

“You both have,” said Jimmy Silver. 
“ Another cup of tea, anybody ? Say 
when.” 

Fenn and Kennedy walked back to 
Kay’s together, and tea-d together in Fenn’s 
study on the following afternoon, to the 
amazement — and even scandal — of Master 
Spencer, who discovered them at it. 
Spencer liked excitement ; and with the 
two leaders of the house at logger-heads, 
things could never be really dull. If, as 
appearances seemed to suggest, they had 
agreed to settle their differences, life would 
become monotonous again — possibly even 
unpleasant. 

This thought flashed through Spencer’s 
brain (as he called it) when he opened 
Fenn’s door and found him helping Kennedy 
to tea. 

“ Oh, the Headmaster wants to see you. 


JIMMY THE PEACEMAKER. 




please, Fenn,” said Spencer, recovering 
from his amazement, “ and told me to 
give you this.” 

“This” was a prefect’s cap. Fenn 
recognised it without difficulty. It was 
the cap he had left in the sitting-room of 
the house in the High Street. 


CHAPTER XXL 

IN WHICH AN EPISODE IS CLOSED. 

*‘rrHANKS," said Fenn. 

He stood twirling the cap round in 
his hand as Spencer closed the door. 
Then he threw it on to the table. He 
did not feel particularly disturbed at the 
thought of the interview that was to come. 
He had been expecting the cap to turn up, 
like the corpse of Eugene Aram's victim, at 
some inconvenient moment. It was a 
pity that it had come just as things looked 
as if they might be made more or less 
tolerable in Kay’s. He had been looking 
forward with a grim pleasure to the sensa- 
tion that would be caused in the house 
when it became known that he and Kennedy 
had formed a combine for its moral and 

234 


TN WHICH AN EPISODE IS CLOSED, 335 


physical benefit. But that was all over. 
He would be sacked, beyond a doubt. In 
the history of Eckleton, as far as he knew 
it, there had never been a case of a fellow 
breaking out at night and not being expelled 
when he was caught. It was one of the 
cardinal sins in the school code. There 
had been the case of Peter Brown, which 
his brother had mentioned in his letter. 
And in his own time he had seen three men 
vanish from Eckleton for the same offence. 
He did not flatter himself that his record 
at the school was so good as to make it 
likely that the authorities would stretch a 
point in his favour. 

‘‘So long, Kennedy,” he said. “You’ll 
be here when I get back, I suppose?” 

“What does he want you for, do you 
think ? ” asked Kennedy, stretching himself, 
with a yawn. It never struck him that 
Fenn could be in any serious trouble. 
Fenn was a prefect; and when the head- 
master sent for a prefect, it was generally 
to tell him that he had got a split infinitive 
in his English Essay that week. 


THE HEAD OF KA Y S. 


2 ^% 

Glad Tm not you,” he added, as a 
gust of wind rattled the sash, and the 
rain dashed against the pane. “ Beastly 
evening to have to go out.” 

‘‘It isn’t the rain I mind,” said Fenn ; 
“it’s what’s going to happen when I get 
indoors again,” and refused to explain 
further. There would be plenty of time 
to tell Kennedy the whole story when he 
returned. It was better not to keep the 
headmaster waiting. 

The first thing he noticed on reaching the 
School House was the strange demeanour 
of the butler. Whenever Fenn had had 
occasion to call on the headmaster hitherto, 
Watson had admitted him with the air of 
a high priest leading a devotee to a shrine 
of which he was the sole managing director. 
This evening he seemed restless, excited. 

“ Good evening, Mr Fenn,” he said. 
“ This way, sir.” 

Those were his actual words. Fenn had 
not known for certain until now that he 
could talk. On previous occasions their 
conversations had been limited to an “Is 


IN WHICH AN EPISODE IS CLOSED. *37 


the headmaster in?” from Fenn, and a 
stately inclination of the head from 
Watson. The man was getting a positive 
babbler. 

With an eager, springy step, distantly 
reminiscent of a shopwalker heading a 
procession of customers, wdth a touch of 
the style of the winner in a walking- 
race to Brighton, the once slow-moving 
butler led the way to the headmaster’s 
study. 

For the first time since he started out, 
Fenn was conscious of a tremor. There 
is something about a closed door, behind 
which somebody is waiting to receive one, 
which appeals to the imagination, especially 
if the ensuing meeting is likely to be an 
unpleasant one. 

“Ah, Fenn,” said the headmaster. “Come 
in.” 

Fenn wondered. It was not in this 
tone of voice that the Head was wont to 
begin a conversation which was going to 
prove painful. 

“You’ve got your cap, Fenn ? I gave 


238 


THE HEAD OF KA V'S. 


it to a small boy in your house to take 
to you.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He had given up all hope of understand- 
ing the Head’s line of action. Unless he 
was playing a deep game, and intended 
to flash out suddenly with a keen question 
which it would be impossible to parry, 
there seemed nothing to account for the 
strange absence of anything unusual in 
his manner. He referred to the cap as if 
he had borrowed it from Fenn, and had 
returned it by bearer, hoping that its loss 
had not inconvenienced him at all. 

“ I daresay,” continued the Head, “ that 
you are wondering how it came into my 
possession. You missed it, of course?” 

“Very much, sir,” said Fenn, with perfect 
truth. 

“It has just been brought to my house, 
together with a great many other things, 
more valuable, perhaps,” — here he smiled 
a head-magisterial smile — “ by a policeman 
from Eckleton.” 

Fenn was still unequal to the intellectual 


IN WHICH AN EPISODE IS CLOSED, 239 


pressure of the conversation. He could 
understand, in a vague way, that for some 
unexplained reason things were going well 
for him, but bej^ond that his mind was in 
a whirl. 

“You will remember the unfortunate 
burglary of Mr Kay’s house and mine. 
Your cap was returned with the rest of 
the stolen property,” 

“Just so,” thought Fenn. “The rest of 
the stolen property? Exactly. Go on. 
Don’t mind me. I shall begin to understand 
soon, I suppose.” 

He condensed these thoughts into the 
verbal reply, “ Yes, sir.” 

“I sent for you to identify your own 
property. I see there is a silver cup 
belonging to you. Perhaps there are also 
other articles. Go and see. You will find 
them on that table. They are in a hopeless 
state of confusion, having been conveyed 
here in a sack. Fortunately, nothing is 
broken.” 

He was thinking of certain valuables 
belonging to himself which had been 


340 


THE HEAD OF KA Y*S. 


abstracted from his drawing-room on the 
occasion of the burglar’s visit to the School 
House. 

Fenn crossed the room, and began to 
inspect the table indicated. On it was as 
mixed a collection of valuable and useless 
articles as one could wish to see. He saw 
his cup at once, and attached himself to it. 
But of all the other exhibits in this 
private collection, he could recognise 
nothing else as his property. 

‘‘There is nothing of mine here except 
the cup, sir,” he said. 

“ Ah. Then that is all, I think. You 
are going back to Mr Kay’s. Then please 
send Kennedy to me. Good-night, Fenn.” 

“ Good-night, sir.” 

Even now Fenn could not understand it. 
The more he thought it over, the more his 
brain reeled. He could grasp the fact that 
his cap and his cup were safe again, and 
that there was evidently going to be no 
sacking for the moment. But how it had 
all happened, and how the police had got 
hold of bis cap, and why they had returned 


IN WHICH AN EPISODE IS, CLOSED. 241 


it with the loot gathered in by the burglar 
who had visited Kay’s and the School 
House, were problems which, he had to 
confess, were beyond him. 

He walked to Kay’s through the rain 
with the cup under his mackintosh, and 
freely admitted to himself that there were 
things in heaven and earth — and particu- 
larly earth — which no fellow could under- 
stand, 

“I don’t know,” he said, when Kennedy 
pressed for an explanation of the reappear- 
ance of the cup. “It’s no good asking 
me. I’m going now to borrow the matron’s 
smelling-salts: I feel faint. After that I 
shall wrap a wet towel round my head, 
and begin to think it out. Meanwhile, 
you’re to go over to the Head. He s had 
enough of me, and he wants to have a 
look at you.” 

“ Me ? ” said Kennedy. “ Why ? ” 

“Now, is it any good asking said 

Fenn. “If you can find out what it’s all 
about, I’ll thank you if you’ll come and 
teU me.” 

Q 


242 


THE HEAD OF KA K»5. 


Ten minutes later Kennedy returned. He 
carried a watch and chain. 

I couldn’t think what had happened to 
my watch,” he said. ‘‘ I missed it on the 
day after that burglary here, but I never 
thought of thinking it had been collared 
by a professional. I thought I must have 
lost it somewhere.” 

‘‘ Well, have you grasped what’s been 
happening ? ” 

“I’ve grasped my ticker, which is good 
enough for me. Half a second. The old 
man wants to sec the rest of the prefects. 
He’s going to work through the house in 
batches, instead of man by man. I’ll just 
go round the studies and rout them out, 
and then I’ll come back and explain. It’s 
perfectly simple.” 

“ Glad you think so,” said Fenn. 

Kennedy went and returned. 

“Now,” he said, subsiding into a deck- 
chair, “ what is it you don’t under- 
stand ? ” 

“I don’t understand anything. Begin at 
the beginning.” 


IN WHICH AN EPISODE IS CLOSED, 243 


“ I got the yarn from the butler — what’s 
his name ? ” 

“Those who know him well enough to 
venture to give him a name — I’ve never 
dared to myself — call him Watson,” said 
Fenn. 

“I got the yarn from Watson. He was 
as excited as anything about it. I never 
saw him like that before.” 

‘‘I noticed something queer about him.” 

“ He’s awfully bucked, and is doing the 
Ancient Mariner business all over the place. 
Wants to tell the story to everyone he 
sees.” 

“Well, suppose you follow his example. 
I want to hear about it.” 

“Well, it seems that the police have been 
watching a house at the corner of the High 
Street for some time — what’s up ? ” 

“Nothing. Go on.” 

“But you said, ‘By Jove!’” 

“Well, why shouldn’t I say ‘By Jove’? 
When you are telling sensational yarns, it’s 
my duty to say something of the sort. 
Buck along.” 


244 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S, 


‘‘ It’s a house not far from the Town 
Hall, at the corner of Pegwell Street — 
you’ve probably been there scores of 
times.” 

“Once or twice, perhaps,” said Fenn. 
“Well?” 

“ About a month ago two suspicious- 
looking bounders went to live there. 
Watson says their faces were enough to 
hang them. Anyhow, they must have been 
pretty bad, for they made even the Eckleton 
police, who are pretty average-sized rotters, 
suspicious, and they kept an eye on them. 
Well, after a bit there began to be a regular 
epidemic of burglary round about here. 
Watson says half the houses round were 
broken into. The police thought it was 
getting a bit too thick, but they didn’t like 
to raid the house without some jolly good 
evidence that these two men were the 
burglars, so they lay low and waited till 
they should give them a decent excuse for 
jumping on them. They had had a detective 
chap down from London, by the way, to 
see if he couldn’t do something about the 


IN WHICH AN EPISODE IS CLOSED. 245 


burglaries, and he kept his eye on them, 
too.” 

“They had quite a gallery. Didn’t they 
notice any of the eyes ? ” 

“No. Then after a bit one of them 
nipped off to London with a big bag. The 
detective chap was after him like a shot. 
He followed him from the station, saw 
him get into a cab, got into another himself, 
and stuck to him hard. The front cab 
stopped at about a dozen pawnbrokers’ 
shops. The detective Johnny took the 
names and addresses, and hung on to the 
burglar man all day, and finally saw him 
return to the station, where he caught a 
train back to Eckleton. Directly he had 
seen him off, the detective got into a cab, 
called on the dozen pawnbrokers, showed 
his card, with ‘Scotland Yard’ on it, I 
suppose, and asked to see what the other 
chap had pawned. He identified every 
single thing as something that had been 
collared from one of the houses round 
Eckleton way. So he came back here, 
told the police, and they raided the house, 


246 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S. 


and there they found stacks of loot of all 
descriptions.” 

“Including my cap,” said Fenn, thought- 
fully. “I see now.” 

“Rummy the man thinking it worth his 
while to take an old cap,” said Kennedy. 

“Very,” said Fenn. “But it’s been a 
rum business all along.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


KAt’s changes its NAME. 

T?OR the remaining weeks of the winter 
term, things went as smoothly in Kay’s 
as Kay would let them. That restless 
gentleman still continued to burst in on 
Kennedy from time to time with some 
sensational story of how he had found a 
fag doing what he ought not to have done. 
But there was a world of difference between 
the effect these visits had now and that 
which they had had when Kennedy had 
stood alone in the house, his hand against 
all men. Now that he could work off‘ 
the effects of such encounters by going 
straight to Fenn’s study and picking the 
house-master to pieces, the latter’s peculiar 
methods ceased to be irritating, and became 

247 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S. 


funny. Mr Kay was always ferreting out 
tke weirdest misdoings on the part of the 
members of his house, and rushing to 
Kennedy’s study to tell him about them 
at full length, like a rather indignant dog 
bringing a rat he has hunted down into 
a drawing-room, to display it to the 
company. On one occasion, when Fenn 
and Jimmy Silver were in Kennedy’s 
study, Mr Kay dashed in to complain 
bitterly that he had discovered that the 
junior day -room kept mice in their lockers. 
Apparently this fact seemed to him enough 
to cause an epidemic of typhoid fever 
in the place, and he hauled Kennedy over 
the coals, in a speech that lasted five 
minutes, for not having detected this plague- 
spot in the house. 

“ So that’s the celebrity at home, is it ? ” 
said Jimmy Silver, when he had gone. 
“ I now begin to understand more or 
less why this house wants a new Head 
every two terms. Is he often taken like 
that?” 

“He’s never anything else,” said Kennedy. 


KA Y^S CHANGES ITS NAME. 


249 


‘‘ Fenn keeps a list of the things he rags me 
about, and we have an even shilling on, 
each week, that he will beat the record 
of the previous week. At first I used to 
get the shilling if he lowered the record; 
but after a bit it struck us that it wasn’t 
fair, so now we take it on alternate weeks. 
This is my week, by the way. I think I 
can trouble you for that bob, Fenn ? ” 

“I wish I could make it more,” said 
Fenn, handing over the shilling. 

“What sort of things does he rag you 
about generally ? ” inquired Silver. 

Fenn produced a slip of paper. 

“Here are a few,” he said, “for this 
month. He came in on the 10th because 
he found two kids fighting. Kennedy was 
down town when it happened, but that 
made no difference. Then he caught the 
senior day-room making a row of some sort. 
He said it was perfectly deafening; but we 
couldn’t hear it in our studies. I believe 
he goes round the house, listening at key- 
holes. That was on the 16th. On the 
22nd he found a chap in Kennedy’s dormitory 


250 


THE HEAD OF KA Y'S. 


wandering about the house at one in the 
morning. He seemed to think that Kennedy 
ought to have sat up all night on the chance 
of somebody cutting out of the dormitory. 
At any rate, he ragged him. I won the 
weekly shilling on that; and deserved it, 
too.” 

Fenn had to go over to the gymnasium 
shortly after this. Jimmy Silver stayed 
on, talking to Kennedy. 

“And bar Kay,” said Jimmy, “how do 
you find the house doing ? Any better ? ” 

“Better! It’s getting a sort of model 
establishment. I believe, if we keep 
pegging away at them, we may win some 
sort of a cup sooner or later.” 

“Well, Kay’s very nearly won the cricket 
cup last year. You ought to get it next 
season, now that you and Fenn are both 
in the team.” 

“Oh, I don’t know. It’ll be a fluke if 
we do. Still, we’re hoping. It isn’t every 
house that’s got a county man in it. 
But we’re breaking out in another place. 
Don’t let it get about, for goodness’ 


/CAy*S CHANGES ITS NAME. 


251 


sake, but we’re going for the sports’ 
cup.” 

‘‘Hope you’ll get it. Blackburn’s won’t 
have a chance, anyhow, and I should like 
to see somebody get it away from the 
School House. They’ve had it much too 
long. They’re beginning to look on it as 
their right. But who are your men?” 

“Well, Fenn ought to be a cert for the 
hundred and the quarter, to start with.” 

“But the School House must get the 
long run, and the mile, and the half, too, 
probably.” 

“Yes. We haven’t anyone to beat 
Milligan, certainly. But there are the 
second and third places. Don’t forget 
those. That’s where we’re going to have 
a look in. There’s all sorts of unsuspected 
talent in Kay’s. To look at Peel, for 
instance, you wouldn’t think he could do 
the hundred in eleven, would you? Well, 
he can, o^ly he’s been too slack to go in 
for the race at the sports, because it meant 
training. I had him up here and reasoned 
with him, and he’s promised to do his 


352 


THE HEAD OF KA V'S, 


best. Eleven is good enough for second 
place in the hundred, don’t you think ? 
There are lots of others in the house who 
can do quite decently on the track, if they 
try. I’ve been making strict inquiries. 
Kay’s are hot stuff, Jimmy. Heap big 
medicine. That’s what they are.” 

“ You’re a wonderful man, Kennedy,” 
said Jimmy Silver. And he meant it. 
Kennedy’s uphill fight at Kay’s had 
appealed to him strongly. He himself 
had never known what it meant to have 
to manage a hostile house. He had stepped 
into his predecessor’s shoes at Blackburn’s 
much as the heir to a throne becomes king. 
Nobody had thought of disputing his right 
to the place. He was next man in; so, 
directly the departure of the previous head 
of Blackburn’s left a vacancy, he stepped 
into it, and the machinery of the house 
had gone on as smoothly as if there had 
been no change at all. But Kennedy had 
gone in against a slack and antagonistic 
house, with weak prefects to help him, and 
a fussy house-master; and he had fought 


KA V'S CHANGES ITS NAME. 

them all for a term, and looked like winning. 
Jimmy admired his friend with a fervour 
which nothing on earth would have tempted 
him to reveal. Like most people with a 
sense of humour, he had a fear of appearing 
ridiculous, and he hid his real feelings as 
completely as he was able. 

“How is the footer getting on? ” inquired 
Jimmy, remembering the difficulties Kennedy 
had encountered earlier in the term in con- 
nection with his house team. 

“It’s better,” said Kennedy. “Keener, 
at any rate. We shall do our best in the 
house-matches. But we aren’t a good 
team.” 

“Any more trouble about your being 
captain instead of Fenn ? ” 

“ No. We both sign the lists now. Fenn 
didn’t want to, but I thought it would be 
a good idea, so we tried it. It seems to 
have worked all right.” 

“ Of course, your getting your first has 
probably made a difference.” 

“A bit, perhaps.” 

“Well, I hope you won’t get the footer 


254 


THE HEAD OF KA F’5. 


cup, because I want it for Blackburn’s. 
Or the cricket cup. I want that, too. 
But you can have the sports’ cup with my 
blessing.” 

“ Thanks,” said Kennedy. ‘‘ It’s very 
generous of you.” 

‘‘Don’t mention it,” said Jimmy. 

From which conversation it will be seen 
that Kay’s was gradually pulling itself 
together. It had been asleep for years. 
It was now waking up. 

When the winter term ended, there were 
distinct symptoms of an outbreak of public 
spirit in the house. 

The Easter term opened auspiciously in 
one way. Neither Walton nor Perry re- 
turned. The former had been snapped up 
in the middle of the holidays — to his 
enormous disgust — by a bank, which wanted 
his services so much that it was prepared 
to pay him £40 a year simply to enter 
the addresses of its outgoing letters in a 
book, and post them when he had completed 
this ceremony. After a spell of this he 
might hope to be transferred to another 


K'A V^S CHANGES ITS NAME. 


255 


sphere of bank life and thought, and at 
the end of his first year he might even hope 
for a rise in his salary of ten pounds, if his 
conduct was good, and he had not been late 
on more than twenty mornings in the year. 
I am aware that in a properly-regulated 
story of school-life Walton would have 
gone to the Eckleton races, returned in a 
state of speechless intoxication, and been 
summarily expelled ; but facts are facts, 
and must not be tampered with. The 
ingenious but not industrious Perry had 
been superannuated. For three years he 
had been in the Lower Fourth. Probably 
the master of that form went to the Head, 
and said that his constitution would not 
stand another year of him, and that either 
he or Perry must go. So Perry had 
departed. Like a poor play, he had failed 
to attract,” and was withdrawn. There was 
also another departure of an even more 
momentous nature. 

Mr Kay had left Eckleton. 

Kennedy was no longer head of Kay’s. 
He was now head of Dencroft’s. 


THE HEAD OE KA V^S. 


256 


Mr Dencroft was one of the most popular 
masters in the school. He was a keen 
athlete and a tactful master. Fenn and 
Kennedy knew him well, through having 
played at the nets and in scratch games 
with him. They both liked him. If 
Kennedy had had to select a house-master, 
he would have chosen Mr Blackburn first. 
But Mr Dencroft would have been easily 
second. 

Fenn learned the facts from the matron, 
and detailed them to Kennedy. 

“ Kay got the offer of a headmastership 
at a small school in the north, and jumped 
at it. I pity the fellows there. They are 
going to have a lively time.” 

“Fm joUy glad Dencroft has got the 
house,” said Kennedy. “We might have 
had some awful rotter put in. Dencroft 
will help us buck up the house games.” 

The new house-master sent for Kennedy 
on the first evening of term. He wished 
to find out how the Head of the house 
and the ex-Head stood with regard to one 
another. He knew the circumstances, and 


I^A y*S CHANGES ITS NAME. 


2S7 


comprehended vaguely that there had been 
trouble. 

“ I hope we shall have a good term,” he 
said. 

“ I hope so, sir,” said Kennedy. 

“ You — er — you think the house is 
keener, Kennedy, than when you first 
came in ? ” 

“Yes, sir. They are getting quite keen 
now. We might win the sports.” 

“I hope we shall. I wish we could win 
the football cup, too, but I am afraid Mr 
Blackburn’s are very heavy metal.” 

“ It’s hardly likely we shall have very 
much chance with them; but we might 
get into the final ! ” 

“It would be an excellent thing for the 
house if we could. I hope Fenn is helping 
you get the team into shape ? ” he added. 

“ Oh, yes, sir,” said Kennedy. “ We share 
the captaincy. We both sign the lists.” 

“A very good idea,” said Mr Dencroft, 
relieved. “ Good-night, Kennedy.” 

“Good-night, sir,” said Kennedy. 


B 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE HOUSE-MATCHES. 

rpHE chances of Kay’s in the inter-house 
Football Competition were not thought 
very much of by their rivals. Of late years 
each of the other houses had prayed to 
draw Kay’s for the first round, it being a 
certainty that this would mean that they 
got at least into the second round, and so 
a step nearer the cup. Nobody, however 
weak compared to Blackburn’s, which was 
at the moment the crack football house, 
ever doubted the result of a match with 
Kay’s. It was looked on as a sort of gentle 
trial trip. 

But the efforts of the two captains during 
the last weeks of the winter term had put 
a different complexion on matters. Foot- 

85S 


THE HOUSE-MATCHES. 


259 


ball is not like cricket. It is a game at 
which anybody of average size and a 
certain amount of pluck can make himself 
at least moderately proficient. Kennedy, 
after consultations with Fenn, had picked 
out what he considered the best fifteen, 
and the two set themselves to knock it 
into shape. In weight there was not much 
to grumble at. There were several heavy 
men in the scrum. If only these could 
be brought to use their weight to the last 
ounce when shoving, all would be well as 
far as the forwards were concerned. The 
outsides were not so satisfactory. With 
the exception, of course, of Fenn, they 
lacked speed. They were well - meaning, 
but they could not run any faster by virtue 
of that. Kay’s would have to trust to 
its scrum to pull it through. Peel, the 
sprinter whom Kennedy had discovered in 
his search for athletes, had to be put in 
the pack on account of his weight, which 
deprived the three-quarter line of what 
would have been a good man in that 
position. It was a drawback, too that 


26 o 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S, 


Fenn was accustomed to play on the wing. 
To be of real service, a wing three-quarter 
must be fed by his centres, and, unfortu- 
nately, there was no centre in Kay’s — 
or Dencroft’s, as it should now be called — 
who was capable of making openings enough 
to give Fenn a chance. So he had to play 
in the centre, where he did not know the 
game so well. 

Kennedy realised at an early date that 
the one chance of the house was to get 
together before the house-matches and 
play as a coherent team, not as a collection 
of units. Combination will often make up 
for lack of speed in a three-quarter line. 
So twice a week Dencroft’s turned out 
against scratch teams of varying strength. 

It delighted Kennedy to watch their 
improvement. The first side they played 
ran through them to the tune of three 
goals and four tries to a try, and it took 
all the efforts of the Head of the house to 
keep a spirit of pessimism from spreading 
in the ranks. Another frost of this sort, 
and the sprouting keenness of the house 


THE HOUSE^MATCHES. 


261 


would be nipped in the bud. He conducted 
himself with much tact. Another captain 
might have made the fatal error of trying 
to stir his team up with pungent abuse. 
He realised what a mistake this would be. 
It did not need a great deal of discourage- 
ment to send the house back to its old 
slack ways. Another such defeat, following 
immediately in the footsteps of the first, 
and they would begin to ask themselves 
what was the good of mortifying the flesh 
simply to get a licking from a scratch team 
by twenty-four points. Kay’s, they would 
feel, always had got beaten, and they 
always would, to the end of time. A 
house that has once got thoroughly slack 
does not change its views of life in a 
moment. 

Kennedy acted craftily. 

“You played jolly well,” he told his 
despondent team, as they trooped off the 
field. “ We haven’t got together yet, 
that’s all. And it was a hot side we were 
playing to-day. They would have licked 
Blackburn’s.” 


262 


THE HEAD OF KAY^S, 


A good deal more in the same strain 
gave the house team the comfortable 
feeling that they had done uncommonly 
well to get beaten by only twenty - four 
points. Kennedy fostered the delusion, 
and in the meantime arranged with Mr 
Dencroft to collect fifteen innocents and 
lead them forth to be slaughtered by the 
house on the following Friday. Mr Dencroft 
entered into the thing with a relish. When 
he showed Kennedy the list of his team 
on the Friday morning, that diplomatist 
chuckled. He foresaw a good time in 
the near future. “ You must play up 
like the dickens,” he told the house during 
the dinner-hour. “Dencroft is bringing a 
hot lot this afternoon. But I think we 
shall lick them.” 

They did. When the whistle blew for 
No-side, the house had just finished scoring 
its fourteenth try. Six goals and eight 
tries to nil was the exact total. Dencroft’s 
returned to headquarters, asking itself in 
a dazed way if these things could be. They 
saw that cup on their mantelpiece already. 


THE HOUSE-MATCHES. 


263 


Keenness redoubled. Football became the 
fashion in Dencroft’s. The play of the team 
improved weekly. And its spirit improved 
too. The next scratch team they played 
beat them by a goal and a try to a goal. 
Dencroft’s was not depressed. It put the 
result down to a fluke. Then they beat 
another side by a try to nothing; and by 
that time they had got going as an organised 
team, and their heart was in the thing. 

They had improved out of all knowledge 
when the house-matches began. Blair’s was 
the lucky house that drew against them in 
the first round. 

“Good business,” said the men of Blair. 
“Wonder who we’ll play in the second 
round.” 

They left the field marvelling. For some 
unaccountable reason, Dencroft’s had flatly 
refused to act in the good old way as a 
doormat for their opponents. Instead, they 
had played with a dash and knowledge of 
the game which for the first quarter of an 
hour quite unnerved Blair’s. In that 
quarter of an hour they scored three times, 


264 


THE HEAD OF KA F’ 5 . 


and finished the game with two goals and 
three tries to their name. 

The School looked on it as a huge joke. 
“ Heard the latest ? ” friends would say on 
meeting one another the day after the game. 
“ Kay’s — I mean Dencroft’s — have won a 
match. They simply sat on Blair’s. First 
time they’ve ever won a house-match, I 
should think. Blair’s are awfully sick. We 
shall have to be looking out.” 

Whereat the friend would grin broadly. 
The idea of Dencroft’s making a game of 
it with his house tickled him. 

When Dencroft’s took fifteen points off 
Mulholland’s, the joke began to lose its 
humour. 

“Why, they must be some good,” said 
the public, startled at the novelty of the 
idea. “If they win another match, they’ll 
be in the final!” 

Kay’s in the final! Cricket? Oh, yes, 
they had got into the final at cricket, of 
course. But that wasn’t the house. It 
was Fenn. Footer was different. One man 
couldn’t do everything there. The only 


THE HOUSE-MATCHES. 


265 


possible explanation was that they had 
improved to an enormous extent. 

Then people began to remember that they 
had played in scratch games against the 
house. There seemed to be a tremendous 
number of fellows who had done this. At 
one time or another, it seemed, half the 
School had opposed Dencroft’s in the ranks 
of a scratch side. It began to dawn on 
Eckleton that in an unostentatious way 
Dencroft’s had been putting in about seven 
times as much practice as any other three 
houses rolled together. No wonder they 
combined so well. 

When the School House, with three first 
fifteen men in its team, fell before them, 
the reputation of Dencrofb’s was established. 
It had reached the final, and only Black- 
burn’s stood now between it and the cup. 

All this while Blackburn’s had been doing 
what was expected of them by beating each 
of their opponents with great ease. There 
was nothing sensational about this, as there 
was in the case of Dencroft’s. The latter 
were, therefore, favourites when the two 


266 


THE HEAD OF KA Y^S, 


teams lined up against one another in the 
final. The School felt that a house that 
had had such a meteoric flight as Dencroft’s 
must — by all that was dramatic — carry the 
thing through to its obvious conclusion, and 
pull off the final. 

But Fenn and Kennedy were not so 
hopeful. A certain amount of science, a 
great deal of keenness, and excellent con- 
dition, had carried them through the other 
rounds in rare style, but, though they 
would probably give a good account of 
themselves, nobody who considered the two 
teams impartially could help seeing that 
Dencroft’s was a weaker side than Black- 
burn’s. Nothing but great good luck could 
bring them out victorious to-day. 

And so it proved. Dencroft’s played up 
for all they were worth from the kick-off 
to the final solo on the whistle, but they 
were over-matched. Blackburn’s scrum was 
too heavy for them, with its three first 
fifteen men and two seconds. Dencroft’s 
pack were shoved off the ball time after 
time, and it was only keen tackling that 


THE HOUSE-MATCHES. 


267 ' 


kept the score down. By half-time Black- 
burn’s were a couple of tries ahead. Fenn 
scored soon after the interval with a great 
run from his own twenty-five, and for a 
quarter of an hour it looked as if it might 
be anybody’s game. Kennedy converted 
the try, so that Blackburn’s only led by 
a single point. A fluky kick or a mistake 
on the part of a Blackburnite outside might 
give Dencroft’s the cup. 

But the Blackburn outsides did not make 
mistakes. They played a strong, sure game, 
and the forwards fed them well. Ten 
minutes before No-side, Jimmy Silver ran 
in, increasing the lead to six points. And 
though Dencroft’s never went to pieces, and 
continued to show fight to the very end, 
Blackburn’s were not to be denied, and 
Challis scored a final try in the corner. 
Blackburn’s won the cup by the comfortable, 
but not excessive, margin of a goal and 
three tries to a goal. 

Dencroft’s had lost the cup; but they 
had lost it well. Their credit had increased 
in spite of the defeat. 


268 


THE HEAD OF KA V^S. 


“ I thought we shouldn’t be able to 
manage Blackburn’s,” said Kennedy, ‘‘What 
we must do now is win that sports’ 
cup.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE SPORTS. 

HjlHERE were certain houses at Eckleton 

which had, as it were, specialised in 

certain competitions. Thus, Gay’s, who 

never by any chance survived the first 

two rounds of the cricket and football 

housers, invariably won the shooting shield. 

All the other houses sent their brace of 

men to the range to see what they could 

do, but every year it was the same. A 

pair of weedy obscurities from Gay’s would 

take the shield by a comfortable margin. 

In the same way Mulholland’s had only 

won the cricket cup once since they had 

become a house, but they had carried off 

the swimming cup three years in succession, 

and six years in all out of the last eight. 
m 


270 


THE HEAD OF KA y*S. 


The sports had always been looked on as 
the perquisite of the School House ; and this 
year, with Milligan to win the long distances, 
and Maybury the high jump and the weight, 
there did not seem much doubt at their 
success. These two alone would pile up 
fifteen points. Three points were given for 
a win, two for second place, and one for 
third. It was this that encouraged Kennedy 
in the hope that Dencroft’s might have a 
chance. Nobody in the house could beat 
Milligan or Maybury, but the School House 
second and third strings were not so 
invincible. If Dencroft’s, by means of second 
and third places in the long races and the 
other events which were certainties for 
their opponents, could hold the School 
House, Fenn’s sprinting might just give 
them the cup. In the meantime they 
trained hard, but in an unobtrusive fashion 
which aroused no fear in School House 
circles. 

The sports were fixed for the last 
Saturday of term, but not all the races 
were run on that day. The half-mile came 


THE SPORTS, 


271 


off on the previous Thursday, and the long 
steeplechase on the Monday after. 

The School House won the half-mile, as 
they were expected to do. Milligan led 
from the start, increased his lead at the 
end of the first lap, doubled it half-way 
through the second, and finally, with a 
dazzling sprint in the last seventy yards, 
lowered the Eckleton record by a second 
and three-fifths, and gave his house three 
points. Kennedy, who stuck gamely to his 
man for half the first lap, was beaten on 
the tape by Crake, of Mulholland’s. When 
sports’ day came, therefore, the score was 
School House three points, Mulholland’s 
two, Dencroft’s one. The success of Mul- 
holland’s in the half was to the advantage 
of Dencroft’s. Mulholland’s was not likely 
to score many more points, and a place to 
them meant one or two points less to the 
School House. 

The sports opened all in favour of 
Dencroft’s, but those who knew drew no great 
consolation from this. School sports always 
begin with the sprints, and these were 


272 


THE HEAD OF HAV^S. 


Dencroft’s certainties. Fenn won the 
hundred yards as easily as Milligan had 
won the half. Peel was second, and a 
Beddell’s man got third place. So that 
Dencroft’s had now six points to their 
rival’s three. Ten minutes later they had 
increased their lead by winning the first 
two places at throwing the cricket ball, 
Fenn’s throw beating Kennedy’s by ten 
yards, and Kennedy’s being a few feet in 
front of Jimmy Silver’s, which, by gaining 
third place, represented the only point 
Blackburn’s managed to amass during the 
afternoon. 

It now began to dawn upon the School 
House that their supremacy was seriously 
threatened. Dencroft’s, by its success in 
the football competition, had to a great 
extent lived down the reputation the house 
had acquired when it had been Kay’s, but 
even now the notion of its winning a cup 
seemed somehow vaguely improper. But 
the fact had to be faced that it now led 
by eleven points to the School House’s 
three. 


THE SPORTS. 


273 


“It’s all right,” said the School House, 
“ our spot events haven’t come off yet. 
Dencroft’s can’t get much more now.” 

And, to prove that they were right, the 
gap between the two scores began gradually 
to be filled up. Dencroft’s struggled hard, 
but the School House total crept up and 
up. Maybury brought it to six by winning 
the high jump. This was only what had 
been expected of him. The discomforting 
part of the business was that the other 
two places were filled by Morrell, of 
Mulholland’s, and Smith, of Daly’s. And 
when, immediately afterwards, Maybury won 
the weight, with another School House man 
second, leaving Dencroft’s with third place 
only, things began to look black for the 
latter. They were now only one point 
ahead, and there was the mile to come: 
and Milligan could give any Dencroftian a 
hundred yards at that distance. 

But to balance the mile there was the 
quarter, and in the mile Kennedy contrived 
to beat Crake by much the same number 

of feet as Crake had beaten him by in the 

8 


274 


THE HEAD OF KA F’5. 


half. ^ The scores of the two houses were 
now level, and a goodly number of the 
School House certainties were past. 

Dencroft’s forged ahead again by virtue 
of the quarter-mile. Fenn won it; Peel 
was second; and a dark horse from Denny V 
got in third. With the greater part of the 
sports over, and a lead of five points to 
their name, Dencroft’s could feel more 
comfortable. The hurdle-race was produc- 
tive of some discomfort. Fenn should have 
won it, as being blessed with twice the 
pace of any of his opponents. But May- 
bury, the jumper, made up for lack of pace 
by the scientific way in which he took his 
hurdles, and won off him by a couple of feet. 
Smith, Dencroft’s second string, finished 
third, thus leaving the totals unaltered by 
the race. 

By this time the public had become alive 
to the fact that Dencroft’s were making a 
great fight for the cup. They had noticed 
that Dencroft’s colours always seemed to be 
coming in near the head of the procession, but 
the School House had made the cup so much 


THE SPOETS, 


their own, that it took some time for the 
school to realise that another house — 
especially the late Kay’s — was running 
them hard for first place. Then, just 
before the hurdle-race, fellows with “ correct 
cards” hastily totted up the points each 
house had won up-to-date. To the general 
amazement it was found that, while the 
School House had fourteen, Dencroft’s had 
reached nineteen, and, barring the long run 
to be decided on the Monday, there was 
nothing now that the School House must 
win without dispute. 

A house that will persist in winning a 
cup year after year has to pay for it when 
challenged by a rival. Dencroft’s instantly 
became warm favourites. Whenever Den- 
croft’s brown and gold appeared at the 
scratch, the school shouted for it wildly 
till the event was over. By the end of 
the day the totals were more nearly even, 
but Dencroft’s were still ahead. They had 
lost on the long jump, but not unexpect- 
edly, The totals at the finish were. School 
House twenty-three, Dencroft’s twenty-five. 


276 


THE HEAD OF KA 


Everything now depended on the long 
run. 

“We might do it,” said Kennedy to Fenn, 
as they changed. “ Milligan’s a cert for 
three points, of course, but if we can only 
get two we win the cup.” 

“There’s one thing about the long run,” 
said Fenn; “you never quite know what’s 
going to happen. Milligan might break 
down over one of the hedges or the brook. 
There’s no telling.” 

Kennedy felt that such a remote possi- 
bility was something of a broken reed to 
lean on. He had no expectation of beating 
the School House long distance runner, but 
he hoped for second place ; and second place 
would mean the cup, for there was nobody 
to beat either himself or Crake. 

The distance of the long run was as 
nearly as possible five miles. The course 
was across country to the village of Ledby, 
in a sort of semicircle of three and a half 
miles, and then back to the school gates 
by road. Every Eckletonian who ran at 
all knew the route by heart. It was the 


THE SPORTS. 


277 


recognised training run if you wanted to 
train particularly hard. If you did not, 
you took a shorter spin. At the milestone 
nearest the school — it was about half a mile 
from the gates — a good number of fellows 
used to wait to see the first of the runners 
and pace their men home. But, as a rule, 
there were few really hot finishes in the 
long run. The man who got to Ledby first 
generally kept the advantage, and came in 
a long way ahead of the field. 

On this occasion the close fight Kennedy 
and Crake had had in the mile and the half, 
added to the fact that Kennedy had only 
to get second place to give Dencroft’s the 
cup, lent a greater interest to the race 
than usual. The crowd at the milestone 
was double the size of the one in the 
previous year, when Milligan had won for 
the first time. And when, amidst howls 
of delight from the School House, the same 
runner ran past the stone with his long, 
effortless stride, before any of the others 
were in sight, the crowd settled down 
breathlessly to watch for the second man. 


TM HKAt) OP PA y*S, 


m 

Then a yell, to which the other had been 
nothing, burst from the School House as 
a white figure turned the corner. It was 
Crake. Waddling rather than running, and 
breathing in gasps; but still Crake. He 
toiled past the crowd at the milestone. 

“By Jove, he looks bad,” said someone. 

And, indeed, he looked very bad. But 
he was ahead of Kennedy. That was the 
great thing. 

He had passed the stone by thirty 
yards, when the cheering broke out again. 
Kennedy this time, in great straits, but in 
better shape than Crake. Dencroft’s in a 
body trotted along at the side of the road, 
shouting as they went. Crake, hearing the 
shouts, looked round, almost fell, and then 
pulled himself together and staggered on 
again. 

There were only a hundred yards to go 
now, and the school gates were in sight at 
the end of a long lane of spectators. They 
looked to Kennedy like two thick, black 
hedges. He could not sprint, though a 
hundred voices were shouting to him to 


THE SPORTS. 


279 


do so. It was as much as he could do to 
keep moving. Only his will enabled him 
to run now. He meant to get to the gates, 
if he had to crawl. 

The hundred yards dwindled to fifty, and 
he had diminished Crake’s lead by a third. 
Twenty yards from the gates, and he was 
only half-a-dozen yards behind. 

Crake looked round again, and this time 
did what he had nearly done before. His 
legs gave way; he rolled over; and there 
he remained, with the School House watch- 
ing him in silent dismay, while Kennedy 
went on and pitched in a heap on the other 
side of the gates. 

‘‘ Feeling bad r ' said Jimmy Silver, 
looking in that evening to make inquiries. 

“I’m feeling good,” said Kennedy. 

“That the cup?” asked Jimmy. 

Kennedy took the huge cup from the 
table. 

“That’s it. Milligan has just brought it 
round. Well, they can’t say they haven’t 
had their fair share of it. Look here. 


j8o 

THE HEAD OF KA Y’S. 


School 

House. School 

House. 

School 

House. 

School House. 

Daly’s. 

School 

House. 

Denny’s. School 

House. 

School 

House. 

Ad infinitum^ 




They regarded the trophy in silence. 
“First pot the house has won,” said 
Kennedy at length. “The very first.” 

“It won’t be the last,” returned Jimmy 
Silver, with decision. 


THE E^P. 


Warrillows, Ltd., Printers, Birmingham and London 





!■ 

1 ■' 


,1 


( , 






i 


s 

> 


k 

« 

/, » 

?• 

t 

» 

/ 

¥ 

, » 



\ 



